


With Glittering Eyes

by SnowHeart



Category: Hamilton - Miranda, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Friends to Lovers, Idiots in Love, M/M, Magic, eventually
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-20
Updated: 2018-07-20
Packaged: 2018-09-25 20:36:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 19
Words: 90,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9842738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SnowHeart/pseuds/SnowHeart
Summary: “Pardon me, are you a Hogwarts student?”Aaron turned around, incredulous, to see a skinny kid about his age looking up at him with wide eyes. “That depends who’s asking,” he hissed. “Are you crazy? Keep your voice down!”Hogwarts is his home, his second chance, and Alexander Hamilton is going to rise up in the magical world if it kills him. Which isn't an impossibility, all things considering. At least he won't be alone.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Tags, warnings and relationships will all change as the story progresses.

It was close to midnight by the time George Washington signed the last letter, an elegant flourish of the quill at the bottom the the page. The pile of envelopes on his desk was threatening to topple over, dozens of addresses printed neatly onto parchment. It was a job he always liked doing, and insisted on doing himself, but there seemed to be more of them to write every year. He supposed that was no bad thing, even if the cramping muscles in his hand said otherwise. 

A simple flick of his wand later, and the stack disappeared, sent to the Owlery to be delivered. And soon enough, the school would be returning. He smiled at the thought as he helped himself to a glass of wine. The castle always felt empty and barren without the usual mob of teenagers running around, setting themselves on fire and generally making his life a living hell. And some learning, he supposed, there was probably a speck of education in there somewhere if you really looked. He would be a pretty terrible headmaster if there wasn’t.

Washington was almost ready to turn in for the night when something caught his eye, a single cream envelope hiding under his desk. He picked it up with a frown. It must have fallen off the stack or something. The address on the front was familiar, and he frowned for a moment before his eyes widened in realisation.

Of course. This was the boy who very nearly hadn't been on the Hogwarts list at all on account of his background. Whose admittance Washington had had to personally fight for. After all that, it wouldn't do for him of all people to be forgotten. He cradled the envelope softly for a moment before transporting it to the owlery with the rest of them.

And as clouds drifted lazily across the summer night sky beyond his window, Washington smiled at the thought of a certain letter arriving through the door of an orphanage in London.

“Good luck,” he said softly. “Alexander Hamilton.”

 

**Three months later**

 

“Pardon me, are you a Hogwarts student?”

Aaron turned around, incredulous, to see a skinny kid about his age looking up at him with wide eyes. “That depends who’s asking,” he hissed. “Are you crazy? Keep your voice down!” Any passing muggle could have heard them, and while the question was innocent enough without context, the last thing he wanted to do on the first day was draw attention to himself by shouting about Hogwarts in the middle of King’s Cross station.

“Oh sure, sorry. I was just hoping you could tell me where the platform is. It’s not exactly signposted.”

“You don’t know how to get onto the platform?” Aaron asked, confused. This was so not how he’d envisioned his morning going. “Where are your parents?”

‘Not around any more.”

Aaron might have believed the casual way the boy said it, if not for the flash of pain behind his eyes and immediately felt guilty for bringing it up.

“Oh right, I’m sorry. Me too, my folks passed a while back.”

“You’re an orphan?” 

“Yeah.”

A shy smile passed between them, too tentative to be called friendship just yet, but a tangible sense of understanding all the same. Then the kid said “But seriously, how do we get to the train? Because I really don’t want to be late on my first day.”

Aaron glanced at his watch which read quarter to eleven, and realised they should probably get moving. “Right, yeah. Okay, you see that barrier there, between platform nine and ten? You just run at it and go straight through.”

“You can’t be serious. You’ve done this before?” 

“Not exactly, but my cousin says it’s easy.” They both eyed the wall of solid brick with some doubt. “Do you want to do it together?” he suggested after a moment and the boy nodded quickly.

They lined up their trolleys, and Aaron spared a moment to wonder if the boy’s trunk, probably bigger than he was, would fall of as it wobbled precariously. Then he nodded reassuringly, even as his own heart was pounding in his chest and together they broke into a run. Aaron closed his eyes just before they reached the barrier (ignoring the voice sounding suspiciously like his uncle that told him he was a coward as he did so) but the expected collision never came. Instead there was a strange whooshing sensation, and when he opened his eyes he was standing on a bustling train platform where a scarlet steam engine glinted on the tracks.  He turned to the boy beside him, who was staring around wide eyed.

“You alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. It’s just… wow.”

“Wow.” Aaron agreed. He’d been told all about it, of course, but that wasn't the same as seeing it for himself. It suddenly felt very real. This was happening. He was going to Hogwarts. 

He suddenly realised he hadn't introduced himself and stuck out his hand. “Aaron Burr, by the way.”

“Nice to meet you, Aaron Burr. I’m Alexander Hamilton.” He shook his hand solemnly. 

It took some time to navigate through the crowds of excited children and fussing parents, and even longer to haul their trunks onto the train, but eventually the two boys found themselves in an empty compartment, and Aaron found himself being quizzed on every aspect of his life and the wizarding world.  _ Did Alexander Hamilton have an off switch? _ he wondered, but couldn't blame him for being curious. Alexander was muggle-born as it turned out, and Aaron couldn't imagine what it must be like to not know what you really were your whole life. Of course, he’d been warned by his uncle not to get too friendly with muggle-borns but it wasn't like he had many options for friends right now, and there was something about the whirlwind of energy sitting across from him that he couldn't help but feel drawn to. 

Aaron was just explaining how the Ministry of Magic worked when the door slid open and three boys piled in, laughing. They didn't seem to notice that the compartment wasn't empty in the midst of your conversation. 

“Yeah right, Herc. First years never make the team.”

“You’ve never seen me on a broom.”

“And you’ve never seen me. Bet you I’m faster.”

“Didn't your pa tell you never to bet against an Irishman?”

The boy opened his mouth to retort, then caught sight of Aaron and his smile turned into a glare. A moment later Aaron recognised him and realised why. He’d been stupid not to expect this.

“Hi, Laurens.” he said with a resigned sigh.

“I should have guessed you’d be starting this year, Burr. Just my luck.”

“You know this guy, John?” one of his friends asked.

“Yeah. This is Aaron Burr. We’re old family friends.” He said the word  _ friends _ in a way that it was clear he meant anything but. “How’s the uncle, Burr? Still working on the Registration Act?”

“Still working on it.” he agreed, praying this wasn't going to develop into an argument. He knew that John Laurens hated Aaron’s family almost as much as he hated his own, but he’d been hoping not to make any enemies before they even started school. Thankfully one of Laurens’ friends seemed to have the same idea and quickly changed the topic.

“Anyway, I’m Hercules Mullins and this is Laf.”

“Laf? What’s that short for?” Alexander asked curiously.

“Ugh don’t ask.” Hercules grumbled before ‘Laf’ could reply. “We’ll be here all day.”

The conversation moved on and Aaron tried to ignore the glares that John Laurens was sending his way. That and the fact that Alexander seemed to instantly get on with these boys, and hadn't said so much as a word to him since the others had come in.

“So what house do you guys want to be in?” Laf asked some time later.

“House?” Alex said, confused.

“Yeah, there’s four houses and we get sorted when we arrive. Like, I hope I’m Gryffindor. House of the the brave and all that. You know Professor Washington was a Gryffindor? He’s the headmaster.”

“What’s he like?”

“Pretty cool from what I hear. He was this amazing fighter back in the day.”

“I heard they wanted him to be Minister for Magic, but he kept turning them down.”

“I heard he’s a total badass!”

“Gryffindor would be neat.” Hercules agreed. “What about you John?”

“Well, all my family have been in Slytherin.”

That produced groans from the other two. “And here I was thinking you were alright.”

“You never know.” John said with a shrug. “Maybe I’ll break the tradition. Which is more than can be said for  _ some _ people.” He shot another look at Aaron.

Alexander didn't seem to notice. “Where do you think I’ll be?”

“I don’t know, man!” Hercules said with a laugh. “We’ve known you, what? Two hours?”

“You do have the look of a Ravenclaw about you.” Laf mussed.

“You definitely ask enough questions to be in Ravenclaw.” Aaron agreed.

Alexander opened his mouth to retort when they jolted forwards as the train came to a stop. Aaron glanced out the window at the dark platform and pushed down a sudden surge of nerves.They were here.

\--

_ “Hamilton, Alexander.” _

Alex walked forwards on legs that suddenly felt like jelly, doing his best to ignore the eyes of the whole school that were suddenly on him. This whole thing was insane. Two months ago he’d been worrying about saving up for his bus pass, and now he was in a castle in the middle of Scotland, about to put on a talking hat so it could tell him what kind of wizard he was. Insane.

He knew for as long as he lived he would never forget his first glimpse of Hogwarts. Sitting in a rickety boat and staring up at the castle, he’d been flooded with a feeling he couldn't explain, and had thought he would never feel again. The sense that somehow, impossibly, he was home. Next to him, Aaron had seemed just as awed. Alex still didn't know what to make of the strange boy from the station, but he hoped they were friends. He’d never a had a real one of those before. 

They’d been ushered into a small room, about fifty first years who all looked as nervous as each other before a tall man in blue robes had come to collect them and explain how the sorting ceremony worked. He introduced himself as Professor Washington, and Alex realised this was who Laf had been talking about. He wasn't sure how this man could ever be described as  _ a total badass _ ; he was strangely intimidating with a rare aura that commanded authority. 

Aaron had been one of the first to be sorted. The hat had barely settled on his head before it called out “ _ Slytherin _ !” Next to him, Alex heard John mutter “What a surprise,” and wondered just what John Laurens had against Slytherins. But he didn't have long to muse on it because all too soon Washington was calling his name. 

The hat smelt faintly of dustballs and was far too big for him. It slipped down over his eyes the moment he put it on his head. And in the resulting darkness, there was suddenly a voice whispering in his ear. Alex nearly fell off the stool in surprise. 

_ Hamilton, eh? Now what to do with you? Let’s see, you’re a smart one, no mistake. You have a mind about you. Lot of brains here, and lots of talent. But do you have the sense to use them, I wonder? _

Alex felt like he should argue that last point, but maybe it wasn't the best idea to pick a fight with an item of clothing on his first day. And even if he’d wanted to, the hat carried on talking without waiting for a reply.

_ What else? There’s loyalty here, and friendship, and oh, not a little courage too. Are you a Gryffindor, I wonder? But wait… What’s this? You have a great ambition, boy, desperate to do well. You’d do anything to succeed here, wouldn't you? _

_ Anything, _ Alex silently agreed.

_ In that case, there’s only one place for you. Good luck, Alexander Hamilton, in SLYTHERIN!” _

The last word was shouted aloud to the whole room and Alex blinked at the sudden light as the hat was pulled off his head. He stumbled over to the end table, too busy being thankful at being sorted at all to worry about which house he’d been put in. There was a space on the bench next to Aaron and he slid into it gratefully as all eyes turned back to the sorting and a ‘Harrison, Robert’ was called.

“Hi again” Aaron said sheepishly, and Alex wondered if he was imagining the relief shining out of the boy’s eyes.

“Guess you were wrong about me after all,” Alex joked. “Turns out I don’t ask enough questions to be a Ravenclaw after all.”

The rest of the sorting ceremony passed in a blur. The three boys that they'd met on the train were called within five names of each other all got sorted into Gryffindor. Laf, as it turned out was short for a ridiculously long name that the whole school laughed at when it was called (Alex spared a pang of pity for the French boy before realising he didn't seem bothered in the slightest.) It was a shame he wasn't in a house with any of them, but how important could houses be, really? Alex tried to work out a pattern to the sorting but it was seemingly random. No house seemed to take more boys or girls, and they all had about equal numbers. Two sisters (he’d guess twins except that they looked nothing alike) were sorted one after another into Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff, so houses didn't even seem to run in families. The last name was called (a ‘Wooster, David’ who quickly became a Hufflepuff) and then Washington was standing to speak.

“Welcome back to another year,” he boomed. “I won’t bore you with long-winded words right now, but before we eat let me say this. These years at Hogwarts are the start of the rest of your life, and even now history has its eyes on you. Remember that, and you will all do great things here.” 

Later that evening, long after everyone in his dorm had fallen asleep, Alex lay staring at the curtains of his four-poster bed practically vibrating from excitement. This was really happening. He thought back to getting his letter at the orphanage all those weeks ago and never being able to shake the feeling that it was all an elaborate joke, that someone was just screwing with him. But it was real. He was here, and tomorrow he was going to begin magic lessons. How does a bastard orphan end up here? he wondered, but he had never been one to question a miracle. This was his shot to be someone, and he sure as hell wasn't going to throw it away.

\--

Breakfast was a pleasant affair, once they actually found their way back to the great hall. Alex, Aaron and another Slytherin first year called Theo (what had she said it was short for? Theodora? Something like that anyway) spent a good twenty minutes wandering around the corridors before a prefect took pity and pointed them in the right direction.

“Seriously, who designs a school with trick doors and secret passages?” Aaron complained around a mouthful of cornflakes. “How does that aid learning in any way?”

“Dunno.” Theo agreed. “The founders must have been all kinds of bat-shit.”

Alex smirked. This eleven-year-old girl had probably sworn more in the twelve hours he’d known her than anyone he’d ever met, and he couldn't help but like her. 

“Language, Prevost!” someone shouted, and they looked up to see a teacher standing over them, a stack of parchment in his hands.

“Sorry, sir,” she replied meekly and he huffed before shoving a handful of papers into Alex’s lap and moving on, thankfully missing the glare Theo shot him as soon as his back was turned.

“Who’s that?” Alex asked.

“Professor Lee. He’s our head of house. I think he teaches potions or something?”

“Typical.” Alex complained, and glanced across the room at where where another professor was making his way down the Gryffindor table, smiling and exchanging words with his students. Why couldn't they get someone like that?

When he examined the papers Lee had given him, he realised they were timetables and the three of them compared lessons. Alex would have potions and defence against the dark arts with Aaron, charms with Theo and astronomy with both of them but that still left him with half his lessons that he had to go to on his own. He pushed down the jangling nerves in his stomach, electing to fill it with toast instead, and twenty minutes later he left the hall alone to try and find his way to transfiguration.

He almost didn't make it on time, taking the wrong turn then getting stuck on a staircase that started moving when he was halfway up it, so he arrived at the classroom just as everyone was filing in. Alex recognised a familiar freckled face in the crowd and waved enthusiastically, glad there was at least someone he knew in his first lesson. But John Laurens completely ignored him and walked straight past into the classroom, leaving Alex staring forlornly after him. What the hell?

“Don’t mind him, John’s just an idiot,” someone said, and Alex turned to see a girl he didn't recognise smiling at him. Her hair was pinned neatly off her face and her Ravenclaw tie knotted flawlessly, as opposed to his own which he knew was a scruffy mess. 

“What’s his problem? He was perfectly happy to talk to me yesterday.”

She shrugged. “He’s somehow got it into his head that Slytherin equals massive asshole. He’ll get over himself, don't worry. Why don't you come sit with me in the meantime.” She offered her hand, an impressive feat considering the neat stack of books she was carrying. “Angelica Schuyler.”

Which was how Alex found himself sitting on a bench between Angelica and her fellow Ravenclaw James Madison who seemed alright, if a little shy, and completely ignoring the glares that John Laurens was shooting him. Pretending to ignore them, anyway. There was no denying it hurt to get so utterly rejected by someone he had hoped was his friend.

But when the lesson started, it was easy to forget all about John. Their professor turned out to be a kind-faced woman with dark hair who smiled at them as they all sat down, and introduced herself as ‘Doctor Washington.”

“Washington?” Alex hissed as they all scrambled for parchment and quills.

“The headmaster’s wife.” Madison replied.

“They’ve both got muggle doctorates, but she got hers first so she gets to be Dr Washington, otherwise it would get confusing.” Angelica added. 

Dr Washington finished whatever it was she had been saying, then turned her ink pot into dormouse with a flourish, but as it turned out there was more to magic than waving your wand and saying a few funny words. In fact Alex didn't even need to get his wand (eeven  inches, ebony wood with a core of unicorn hair) out of his bag for the first forty minutes as he struggled to copy down a series of complicated notes (Alex glanced at Angelica’s neat, concise writing and made a mental note to get a copy when exam time time came around) before Washington handed everyone a matchstick with the instructions to turn it into a needle. Not exactly the great feats he’d been imagining but Alex wasn't about to complain; it was only his first day after all and he was still trying to get his head around the fact he was doing any magic at all. At least he would have been if he managed to effect any change to his matchstick at the end of the lesson. He frowned down it, but it remained stubbornly matchstick-shaped. His only consolation was that no one else seemed to be having any more success than he was. He thought that maybe Angelica’s looked slightly more pointed as they packed up, but she wasn't convinced.

John ignored him again on the way out of the classroom so of course Alex focused on ignoring him harder. “So do you have any family at Hogwarts?” he asked Angelica (who was heading in the same direction as him although they didn't have charms together.)

“Yeah, my sister Eliza just got sorted into Hufflepuff.”

Alex smacked his forehead. “Oh yeah, Schuyler, of course. I remember thinking that was weird how you weren’t in the same house. Not weird, I mean!” he added hastily. “Just, you know, a bit unusual. Are you guys twins, or…? Sorry for asking, its just-”

Angelica laughed at his stuttering apologies. “It’s okay. We’re adopted, actually, so all three of us look totally different, and will probably all end up in different houses.”

“Three of you?”

“We’ve got another sister, but Peggy’s too young to come this year. Thank God, I can’t imagine her with her hands on real magic. This one time she got hold of Dad’s wand when his back was turned…”

And by the time they went their separate ways on the charms corridor, Alex was sure that even if John Laurens wasn't talking to him, he had made a friend this morning after all.

\--

Herc just didn't get potions. It wasn't his fault. Sure, he’d only been at Hogwarts for a little over two weeks, but he could tell he wasn't a complete dud at all magic. It had taken a week of Defence against the dark arts to do anything more than shoot puffs of smoke out of his wand and three lessons of transfiguration before his matchstick at all resembled a needle, but these things took time and he was no worse than anyone else. The point was, magic, he could do just fine. Potions? That was a different matter entirely.

He didn't know what it was that made him so useless at the subject. He’d always been fairly good at cooking, but apparently following magical recipes just wasn't the same. Maybe it was the fact the lesson was taught in a the dungeons, and he was too busy trying not to imagine all horrible things that had happened here or to ignore the fact that his breath was coming in visible puffs. Maybe it was the fact that the teacher, Professor Lee, was an absolute arse. Why the man had ever become a teacher, Herc had no idea. His only saving grace was that he seemed to hate all his students equally and seemed just as determined to ruin the days of the Slytherin pupils as well as the rest of the class, so at least you couldn't accuse him of favouritism. But that was pretty much the only thing he had going for him. Herc had disliked the man almost instantly, although it was John who’d really fallen out with him. Lee had taken almost thirty points from Gryffindor before Herc had stomped on his friend’s foot hard enough that he finally shut up, and it was only a matter of time before the potions master gave him his first detention. 

He was probably headed for a detention himself the rate his potion was going, Herc thought miserably as he examined the bubbling mess in his cauldron. They were brewing a simple Hiccupping potion, although he was pretty sure that whatever he’d managed to concoct would make you do a lot worse than just hiccup. Was it supposed to be such a violent yellow colour? That couldn't be right…

“Did you stir counter-clockwise before adding the lacewings?” a voice asked, and Herc looked up to see Alex Hamilton staring at him from across the desk. He fought down a flair of irritation. Maybe the reason he seemed to be so bad at potions was these bloody Slytherins in his class. They were just both so freakishly good at this. And now here was Hamilton trying to tell him how to do it right, when help from him was the last thing Herc needed.

“What’s it to you?” 

Hamilton seemed to deflate a bit. “Apart from the fact I’d prefer it if your cauldron didn't explode in my face? I was just wondering… It’s a simple enough mistake to make. If you stir before you add the lacewings, then you’re less likely to over-boil the ingredients, and it won’t go quite so…”

“Yellow?” Herc provided dryly, before remembering he wasn’t supposed to like this boy.

“Yeah, that’s one way of putting it. Feel free to ignore me, sorry, just thought I’d ask.”

Alex disappeared back down his end of the bench next to Burr, and Herc answered John’s questioning look with a shrug. But when the time came to add the next batch of lacewings to his cauldron, he made sure to start stirring before tipping them in. And maybe it was his imagination, but the potion did seem to be a bit darker.

It happened three more times over the course of the week before Herc noticed that pattern. Hamilton would appear at his work station, offer a sarcastic comment and advice on how to how to fix his latest screw-up, and disappear just as quickly. This particular Wednesday, it was going even worse than usual. Herc glanced down at his sweetening solution (seriously, what would you ever need a sweetening solution for that you couldn't just use sugar?) and wondered if he was going to have to start the whole thing from scratch. He tossed some powdered moonstone in half-heartedly, and cringed at the sparks that seemed to be issuing from the cauldron. 

John smirked. “What the hell are you making there, a bomb?”

“At this rate, yeah.” Herc agreed miserably, and watched John laugh before disappearing into the store cupboard. His friend may not be a potions master, but at least his work wasn't threatening to erupt.

“Need a hand?” a voice asked and, of course, here was Hamilton at his shoulder. 

“And I suppose you know exactly what’s wrong?”

“Well…” Hamilton glanced at Herc’s work. “I’m no expert, but I don’t think it’s supposed to be on fire.”

“What? Aw, crap!” Herc turned and stared in dismay into his cauldron, the contents of which had indeed just burst into flame. Lee was going to fail him for sure.

“It’s alright, we can fix this.” Alex glanced around the classroom, and Herc didn't miss the way his eyes settled on the store cupboard door for a moment before turning back to him. “Okay, so here’s what you need to do…”

By the time John came back, the crisis was more or less under control and his potion was even starting to resemble the thick liquid they needed. But Herc was more interested in the way that Hamilton seemed to disappear with a quick “I think you’ve got this from here,” the moment John came back into the classroom. He was still musing on it half an hour later as they walked out of the dungeon.

“So Laf reckons he’s found a secret passage behind that ugly statue in the charms corridor,” John said cheerfully.

“The one-eyed witch?”

“Bingo! Want to go check it out before super? We’ve got half an hour.”

Herc bit his lip and made a split-second decision. “You know what, I’ll catch you guys up later. Think I left my homework in the classroom.”

John shrugged easily. “Suit yourself,” he said before heading off.

Herc counted a whole ten second to let him get round the corner, then turned and walked back towards the dungeons, to where he knew the Slytherins would be going from potions back to their common room. Sure enough, it wasn't long before Hamilton and Burr walked past. He took a deep breath.

“Hey, Hamilton, can I have a word?”

The boy looked up at him in surprise. They had never spoken out of class before, not counting that first day on the train. “Sure. What’s up?”

“Do you want me to wait?” Burr asked, eyeing Herc cautiously like he expected him to attack Hamilton the moment he was out of eyeshot. What was with all the mistrust today?

“Nah, don’t worry, I’ll be fine. See you at super.”

“If you’re sure,” Burr said, although the accusation didn't leave his eyes as he glared at Herc before shouldering his bag and walking away. Hamilton turned back to him.

“What’s up?”

“Why do you keep doing that? In class?”

“What? Helping you?” Hamilton’s eyebrows knitted together in confusion. 

“Helping me when you know John isn't looking.”

“Oh.” Hamilton seemed to deflate slightly, and slumped back against the wall. “I don’t think he likes me all that much. And I didn't want to make anything awkward between you guys. I know he’s your friend and all, but he’s kind of a douche.”

Despite himself, Herc laughed. “I didn't know people were still saying douche.”

Hamilton just shrugged. “What can I say, I’m old fashioned. It’s true though, ever since I put this tie on he doesn't want anything to do with me.”

Herc paused, torn between defending his friend and sharing secrets that definitely weren’t his to share. In the end he said “John hasn't had the best of experiences when it comes to Slytherins. But I can talk to him about it if you want? Tell him to lay off?”

“No!” Hamilton said quickly. “I mean, I don't need other people fighting my battles for me.”

Herc took in the scrawny kid who looked ready to take on anyone who disagreed with him, and didn't doubt it for a minute. “Fine, I won’t say anything. But he’ll come around, I promise.”

Hamilton looked doubtful, but he nodded. There was an awkward pause, then he said “I should go catch up to Aaron, before he decides you’ve murdered me or something. See you around?”

“Sure,” Herc replied, and Hamilton was almost at the end of the corridor before he called out “Hey, Alex? I never said thanks.”

Hamilton grinned, and then he was gone. 

And the next week in potions, when his latest attempt at a shrinking potion had gone to hell, Herc didn't wait for Alex to come and insult his work. He strode up to his table and, ignoring the matching confused looks from Burr and John said “Fancy giving me a hand with this?”

\--

It wasn't that Elizabeth Schuyler couldn't fly. Quite the opposite actually. Their dad had made sure of that years ago, that all of his daughters could hold their own on a broomstick, the same way he’d made sure that all of them could swim and cook pasta. The problem was that she hated it.

Peggy had taken to a broomstick like a duck to water at the age of about about eight, and even Angelica would happily fly a couple of loops around their house, but Eliza would much rather keep her feet firmly on the ground. Watching the earth disappear beneath you with nothing but a charmed lump of wood to keep you from falling…? No, she was more than happy to leave that to the others.

Unfortunately, it didn’t look like she was going to get that option. The notice had appeared in the Hufflepuff common room over night, only to be surrounded by excited eleven year olds the moment they woke up. Eliza could only feel a small stir of dread as it announced first year flying lessons would begin next week.

“I don’t know what the big deal is,” Angelica told her later that day in Herbology, the one lesson they shared. “Most of us have never even been on a broom before, you won’t be doing more than hovering a couple of feet off the ground. You were doing that when you were nine.”

The vine they were trying to re-pot hissed angrily. Professor Franklin had assured them that the plants (hell if Eliza could remember what they were called) weren’t at all dangerous, only a little bad tempered, but she wasn't convinced. It twitched in her hands as she sighed and answered her sister.

“I know. It’s just the thought of getting on a broom at all…”

“Stop being such a baby,” Angelica elbowed her playfully, and the vine took the opportunity to shoot out of her hands completely.

“Dammit!” they muttered in unison, before grinning. Eliza knew her sister hadn't meant anything by it, and anyway Angelica was probably right. She usually was about these things after all. It wasn't like she could avoid riding a broom for the rest of her life anyway.

Although the thought didn't do much to help Eliza as the group of first years made their way into the grounds a week later, all chatting nervously. In what she could only imagine was an attempt at inter-house co-operation, they had all been mixed up for flying lessons so her only fellow Hufflepuff was Sally Hemings, a girl she liked even if she didn't know her that well. 

“Isn’t this exciting?” Sally whispered as Madame Ross had them line up besides a row of rickety of broomsticks. She was a witch who’s stern face was framed with age, but Eliza knew not to let that fool her. She’d only heard the stories about Betty Ross’s prowess on a broom, but something in the old woman’s eyes told her they were probably all true. She only nodded her reply, too busy trying to keep her pounding heart under control. 

“Now here’s what you’re going to do,” Ross said once they were all in position. “Simply hold your hand out over your broom and say Up. It’s important you put as much emphasis and intent into your command as possible.”

_ Maybe my broom won’t respond at all, _ Eliza thought hopefully. She glanced down at it, held out her hand and said “Up,” as passively as possible, all the while thinking s _ tay down, stay down. _

The broom leapt into her hand immediately. So much for that.

At least she was free to watch everyone else, having successfully caught her own broom. Around her, her classmates were having mixed results. Some, like her, had barely been able to catch their brooms with the speed and intensity that they jumped up. The boy standing opposite her seemed just as surprised as she had that his broom was so quick to obey, and Eliza had to smile at the delighted grin spreading across his face. At least someone was enjoying themselves. Others were faring less well, broomsticks hovering half-way between the ground and their hands, or, like Sally, simply rolling over on the ground like a disobedient puppy. 

“How the hell did you do that?” Sally whispered, and Eliza could only shrug in return. She groaned, turned back to her broom and yelled “Up!”

On the plus side, the broom responded. Unfortunately, it responded by jerking upright, like a rake that had been trodden on, straight into Sally’s face. She fell backwards in alarm, letting out a cry of pain.

“Oh God, are you okay?” Eliza asked, rushing over.

She was pretty sure her friend was smiling, but it was kind of hard to tell as her hands had flown up to her face to try and stem her bleeding nose. “By dose!”

“What?”

“My nose,” she repeated, more carefully this time. “I think it’s broken.”

Ross had rushed over to see what the commotion was about, and tutted when she saw Sally. “Oh dear. Don’t worry child, it’s nothing Dolly can’t fix, I’m sure. Let me take you to the hospital wing.” She turned to face the rest of the class. “I expect you all to wait here until I return with both feet firmly on the ground.” 

Eliza bit her lip. _ No arguments from me _ , she thought as she watched Ross lead her friend away. Unfortunately, not twenty seconds later, it seemed the rest of the class didn’t share her sentiment.

“Take that back, Laurens.”

“I’ll take it back when it you stop having your head stuck up your-”   
“Oh, you think you’re so great don’t you? With your family name and your red tie. I could take you any day of the week, you know Laurens.”

“You’re joking, right? I’d like to see your skinny ass take me in a fight.”

A few laughs echoed around the quickly forming circle, and Alex’s face flushed angrily. _ Oh God _ , Eliza thought despairingly. She hardly knew the Slytherin, but between the the glares he shot Laurens in the hallways, and the whispered comments Angelica sometimes made to her, she knew enough to know that this was going to get ugly very quickly. Unfortunately, Laurens was right. There was nothing but skin and bones on Alex and she was sure that he couldn’t have been taller than five foot, and that was including the extra two inches of pure energy. A moment later, he seemed to have come to the same conclusion as he looked down at the broomstick in his hand, then up again to Laurens with a cocky smirk on his face. “Who said anything about a fight?”

A tall slytherin boy pushed his way through the crowd and grabbed Alex’s wrist. “What are you doing?” he hissed. 

“Get of me, Burr.” Alex shot back, and then, loud enough for the whole class to hear “What do you say Laurens? First one around the astronomy tower? Or are you too scared?”

Laurens faltered, just long enough for a ripple of laughter to echo around the circle, and his face hardened. “You’re on.”

“Ross said not to leave the ground until she got back,” someone piped up.

The two boys ignored them, and Eliza’s Very Bad Feeling was rapidly spiraling into panic. This was going to end in disaster. Alex’s friend (Burr?) seemed to be thinking the same thing. “Are you out of your mind?” he whispered.

Alex only shot him a grin, that was the only warning they got before suddenly he pushed off of the ground sharply and went careering into the air.

“Bastard,” Laurens muttered, following him a moment later.

“Oh my God,” said Eliza as she watched the two boys climb higher. 

“He’s going to get himself killed,” the Burr ) muttered, not taking his eyes off them.

“They both are. Idiots probably think they’re God’s gift to flying”

“No, you don’t understand.” he grabbed her shoulders suddenly, and Eliza was taken aback by the urgency in his voice. “He’s never flown before.”

“What?”

“He’s muggleborn. I doubt he’s even seen a broom before today.”

_ Merlin _ . Eliza craned her neck upwards. Sure enough, it was clear to even the most uninformed flier that Alex didn’t have a clue what he was doing. He wobbled precariously astride his broom as it jerked around, climbing ever higher. John Laurens didn’t look to be much better, clinging tightly to the wood in the hopes that it would turn out okay. What had the two of them been thinking? It was one thing to go for a joyride unsupervised, but the idiots didn’t even know how to fly. 

“What do we do?” Burr asked, desperation creeping into his voice, and Eliza was on the verge of saying “We can’t do anything,” but the words stuck in her throat. Because that wasn’t quite true. Everyone here had probably never gone beyond hovering a few feet in the air, but she…

Far above them, Alex pitched wildly to the left, almost falling off his broom. Someone screamed, and Eliza’s leg was over her own broomstick before she could talk herself out of it.

“Hey, wait!” Burr called out, a second too late as she kicked off, allowing muscle memory to take over as she shot up towards them.

“What the hell are you two doing?” she called out, desperately trying not to look down. 

“What are  _ you _ doing?” Laurens shot back. “I notice you decided to join us.”

“Yes, but I know how not to get myself killed.”

“Eliza, right?” Alex asked, and she nodded. “Then get out of our way, Eliza.”

She wanted to scream in frustration. And then possibly scream in fear. She glanced downwards, at the feet of empty space between the ground, and where her shoes hung precariously into nothing. How stupid could they be? “I’m not going anywhere. So if I die it’s on the pair of you. You’ve both proved your point. You’re brave enough to fly up here without a clue what you’re actually doing… oh no, I meant stupid enough. So please, before I fall off this thing just call this a draw and be done with it?”

“Eliza-”

“Is this really worth getting kicked out of Hogwarts for?”

Alex opened his mouth, then closed it again, and she knew with a surge of triumph she had won.

“Okay then. But how do I-?” His words were dragged away by the wind mid sentence as his broom gave a sudden, horrifying jerk downwards. The world seemed to slow to a crawl, and for a fraction of a second that lasted an age, Eliza met Alex’s terrified eyes. She may have called his name, she had no idea. But all she knew was that, a moment later, and almost thirty feet up, his broom twisted out from under him altogether.

And Alexander Hamilton fell into empty air.


	2. Chapter 2

Eliza dove. 

She didn’t stop to think, just acted on an instinct built up from years of flying, no matter how much she hated it. The wind whipped through her hair as she gripped the broom, knuckles white against the wood, and she dropped like a stone towards the falling boy. Out of the corner of her eye she caught a glimpse of something moving past her in a blur of black, but there was no time to pull out of her dive or wonder what the hell it was.

The ground was hurtling towards them, and with her heart in her mouth, Eliza reached out an am to grab Alex. Too late did the realisation that she wasn’t going to be strong enough to haul a falling mass out of midair, but by that point her fingers had already closed on the arm of his robes. She pulled out of the dive with everything she had, fully expecting to fail, and either drop Alex or be pulled off her broom along with him. Neither happened.

Eliza opened her eyes, only then realising she had closed them to begin with, and realised in confusion that they were hovering in mid-air perfectly. But how had…?  _ Oh _ .

The events of the last few seconds caught up with her. As she had dropped after Alex, so had Laurens. There was no way she would have been able to catch him on her own, but between the two of them they had somehow managed to haul him up. He dangled precariously for a moment, converse trainers kicking frantically, before they swung him up and onto the back of John’s broom.

“You idiot, Hamilton,” Laurens said, although it was as a breath of relief rather than the snarl that usually accompanied those words. Alex, meanwhile, just seemed lost for words. “I didn't…”

“Didn’t imagine that  the great Alexander Hamilton could possibly fail at riding a broom?” She finished for him, praying to God that she wasn’t about to start hyperventilating. “Can we please get off these things before I have a heart attack?”

Eliza didn’t know if there was an extra edge to her voice, or if the near death experience had finally knocked some sense into them, but they offered no argument and the three of them drifted down the last few metres in silence. It wasn’t until her feat hit the grass again, somewhat less steadily than how she had kicked off that Eliza remembered to breathe again.

Burr pushed through the crowd and straight to Alex, who was climbing off Laurens’ broom sheepishly. “Are you okay? Merlin, Alex, you just fell, and-”

“I’m fine.” He brushed his fellow Slytherin off hurriedly and turned to Eliza. “Hey, um-”

“Schuyler! Hamilton! Laurens!” The shout cut through the haze of excited chatter like a knife blade, and Eliza felt a cold trickle of dread. Ross was racing towards them, a single strand of grey hair loose and a look of blind fury in her eyes. Slowly, the crowd parted, clearing her path to where the three of them stood frozen. 

“What in the name of sanity did you think you were doing? I expressly forbade a single broom to leave the ground, but you three thought you’d go for a nice little ride, did you? Do you have any idea…? Never, in all my years…” She trailed off again, apparently too angry even to form sentences. Alex and John stood on either side of her, their three sets of shoulders slouching in shame and fear. Eventually, Ross seemed to get a hold of herself. “Well? I’m waiting for an explanation.”

John raised his head. “Professor, I-“

“It was my fault.” Eliza ignored the looks the boys (and the rest of the class) sent her, a mix of shock and pure confusion. “I’ve been on a broom before, not much, but enough to know how you’re supposed to sit on it. I was showing Alex, and I guess I got something wrong because I lost control and went shooting up in the air. They were only helping me down.”

“What?” Ross asked.

“What?” Alex repeated in equal confusion, and out of the corner of her eye, Eliza saw Laurens deal him a swift elbow to the ribs. 

“That’s what happened. If it wasn’t for them, I might have died.”

Ross stared at them, and Eliza was suddenly sure that she had miscalculated horribly. The flying professor sniffed and drew herself up to her full height. “The heads of your houses will be sure to hear about this.” she told the boys, before turning her glare back to Eliza. “And as for you, Miss Schuyler, I think you’d better come with me.”

“Professor, wait!” Alex called out, running after her, and Eliza spared a moment to wonder if he’d somehow hit his head after all, or if maybe the boy was just mad. The damage was done, and trying to shift the blame back onto himself was only going to get all three of them in even more trouble. She silently begged him to shut up as Ross turned back around, nostrils flaring.

“Yes?” she asked, voice like ice.

“My- um, Eliza’s broom. There was something wrong with it.” He held out something for her inspection, and Eliza realised he had retrieved his, remarkably unbroken, broomstick from where it had crashed to the ground.

“What was wrong with it was that she fell off it.”

“No!” His eyes were imploring. “I mean, she’s a better flyer than that. She wouldn’t just fall. This wasn’t her fault.  I think it’s malfunctioning, and, well, maybe no-one else should ride it until you get it checked out?” The end of the sentence came out as little more than a whimper, words trailing off under Ross’s smoldering eyes. She looked down at him, then to the broom, before her eyes came to rest on his face.

“As admirable as you may think your intentions may be, Hamilton, I can assure you Hogwarts brooms are tested within an inch of their lives before being used. And as for Miss Schuyler… It’s professor Washington you must convince, not me.”

 

\--

 

Alex didn’t know what he had been expecting, exactly. Something more ornamental, a bit of gold leaf, some sort of cool hidden entrance behind a giant statue maybe. But in reality, he’d walked past the unassuming wooden door three times before working out it was Washington’s office. It made sense, in a strange sort of way. From what little he’d glimpsed of the headmaster that his classmates seemed to admire so much, he didn’t seem like the sort of man who would surround himself with unnecessary prestige. Not that he spent long considering the decoration of his study door, or course. Alex was far more concerned with what he had come here to do.

Aaron had tried to talk him out of it, of course. “Don’t be an idiot, Alexander,” he’d sighed, following Alex out of the Slytherin common room with a sigh, Theo in tow. “All you’re going to do is give away that she was lying, and then all three of you will be screwed.”

“I’m not going to let Eliza take the blame for something I did.” 

“So you’re just going to go marching straight up to Washington and yell at him until he listens?”

Alex had crossed his arms defensively. “If it comes to it, sure.”

“And if he expels you?” Theo had asked with surprising gentleness. 

That was the point Alex was doing his best not to think about right now, so of course he couldn’t think about anything but the possibility that if he owned up, he might be out of Hogwarts by the end of the day. It was something Aaron would never understand with his pureblood status and life spent in the wizarding world. For Alex and Theo, for every muggleborn student to walk these halls Hogwarts was a chance to live a life they could never have imagined existed, and the thought of going back to that grey orphanage in that grey city was awful. Maybe Aaron was right, maybe this was a horrible idea, maybe-

Alex knocked.

For a long moment there was no response, and Alex had raised his fist to rap against the wood again, when the door opened inwards with a dull creaking sound. He lowered his hand again, somewhat sheepishly, and tried not to be too impressed that the door had seemingly opened of its own accord. You’d have thought he would stop being blown away by every small demonstration of magic, but apparently the most simple of feats could still make his eyes widen in amazement. 

“Hamilton. I was wondering when you were going to make an appearance.”

He looked up sharply. Professor George Washington was seated behind a grand oak desk, attention seemingly fixed on the papers before him. The office while elegant, was as simply furnished as its door, the only real decorations seeming to be shelves of books stretching all the way to the ceiling, and a single map hanging on a high wall. Alex craned his neck for a moment, trying to determine exactly what it showed (he wanted to say it was Britain, but there was something in the shape that was all wrong) before quickly turning his attention back to the headmaster. 

“Professor, I’m sorry to disturb you, but I need to speak to you about-“

“Take a seat, will you?” Washington asked. A chair dragged itself out from the a few inches, inviting him to sit. “I know exactly what you’re doing here.”

“You do?”

“Unless there’s another Slytherin student waiting outside my door to tell me all about his misadventures on a broomstick, I believe I have an inkling.” Washington finally looked up at him, and Alex tried not to flinch at the intensity of his gaze. “Sit down, Alexander.”

Alex sat, willing the tight knot in his chest to unravel. Washington just regarded him evenly, and Alex was sure he wasn’t just imagining the flash of fascination behind the headmaster’s eyes.. After a moment of silence, Alex cleared his throat. “Professor, about Eliza, it wasn’t her fault. She was just trying to help us. Me and John, we-“

Washington held up a hand. “Your friend Miss Schuyler is a particularly bad liar, you know. There was something rather admirable about her trying, but even if I hadn’t known she had done nothing wrong before she walked through my door, it was apparent she was only trying to protect you and Mr Laurens.” He paused, just long enough for Alex to wonder if he was supposed to say something before Washington continued. “I am curious though. What is it that you’ve done in the short weeks you’ve been here at Hogwarts to inspire such loyalty in a friend?”

“I’ve…” Alex frowned. In truth, he had no idea why Eliza had lied to protect them. Hell, he didn’t even know why she had followed them up into the air in the first place. He was friends with her sister, sure, but Alex realised with some surprise that the first conversation he’d ever had with her had probably been twenty feet up in the air. “I don’t know, Sir.” he admitted, a little sheepishly.

“And your studies?”

“My… my studies?” Alex repeated, confused. 

“Your lessons. How are you finding Hogwarts?”

Why wasn’t Washington angry about the flying lesson? What did he care if some random first year was doing well in his classes? “It’s really something. Not exactly what I’m used to.” He managed finally. 

“Yes, I imagine this place can be a little overwhelming at first. You were raised by muggles, is that right?”

“Yeah. Muggle born. London born and raised.” He didn’t mention the rest of it, never mind the fact that Washington surely knew he’d been living in an orphanage for almost as long as he could remember. He’d come here to put all that behind him, after all.

“Is that right?.” Washington pursed his lips slightly, and Alex had the distinct feeling that he was missing something important, here, that there was a second conversation going on that he was somehow unaware of. “Well I suppose you should run along then, Alexander.”

He blinked. “I’m not in trouble?”

“Well, let me see. Miss Schuyler was sent to see me because she was trying to protect her friends. You came to see me because you were trying to protect her. I think that whatever punishment your housemaster chooses will be more than sufficient, don’t you?”

Swallowing, Alex nodded. “Yes sir.”

“You may go, unless there was anything else.”

“Well actually… Eliz- I mean, my broom, sir. There was something wrong with it. Like it was trying to throw me off. I don’t know if it was broken, or-“

“Professor Ross did mention that. I’ve looked into the matter personally, and I can assure you there is nothing amiss with the broom in question.”

“But-“

“Consider the matter closed, Alexander.”

There was no room for further discussion in Washington’s tone, and Alex couldn’t help but wince a little at its finality.

“Yes sir,” he said, standing, and walked out the door.

He was halfway back to the Slytherin common-room before his heart rate began to approach normal again, and he let out a long, shaky breath. He wasn’t going to be expelled. Eliza wasn’t going to be expelled. 

Now all he had to do was work out what the hell that had all been about.

 

\--

 

“This,” Lafayette declared, “Is utter bullshit.”

“Agreed.” Herc replied. “But maybe don’t shout about it quite so loudly in the middle of the library?”

John elbowed him to punctuate the point, and Laf glanced around realising that his comment had attracted more than one glare from older students. He smiled apologetically, before turning back to Herc and saying in a whisper “Sorry. But it’s true. Is Lee trying to kill us or something?”

“I think so. Twenty inches on the properties of wormwood by tomorrow? I don’t think there are even twenty inches worth of stuff to say about wormwood at all.”

“And two days ago it was learning forgetfulness potions from scratch…”

“Don’t forget the test on antidotes! That’s third year stuff.”

“What’s got him in such a bad mood?” Laf complained, leaning back in his chair. 

“Be thankful he’s just setting you the work.” said John. “If I so much as open my mouth to ask for a vial he’s going to actually murder me in the middle of the dungeon, I’m convinced.”

“That’s pissed at you, Laurens.” Herc said softly, and Laf raised his eyebrow, confused. 

“What do you mean?”

“I think he’s pissed that Washington’s letting you off the hook over the whole broom thing. I mean, he’s always hated your guts, and then you go and get away with something like that. And he can’t even take it out on Alex instead because Von Steuben's already given you a pretty cushy detention, so now he’s got to do the same.”

“Cushy? Speak for yourself.” John muttered. Their head of house was, in Laf’s opinion, a pretty fair guy. A bit eccentric, sure, and you could never quite be sure if he was going to transfigure you into a teapot on a whim, but on the whole Professor Von Steuben was alright. He’d had John polishing all the silverware in the trophy room every night for the past week to  _ “teach you some real, hard labour, boy! _ ” 

“It could be worse. Alex is having to clear maggot guts off the dungeon floor.”

The other two pulled a face in disgust, although Laf wasn’t sure which would be worse: The job itself, or having to do it under Lee’s supervision. 

“But seriously, though,” John said. “You think a teacher’s spent all week in a foul mood because a couple of first years got a softer punishment than he wanted? Why does he even care?”

“I don’t know.” Herc shrugged, turning a page of the book he wasn’t reading idly. “I’m just saying it seems that way.”

“Wouldn’t surprise me. Slimy  _ dégénéré _ . Stalking about the castle like a little ray of misery.”

“At least no one can accuse him of prejudice.” said Herc. “He’s just as bad to the Slytherins. At least we’ve got Steuben. Alex must be having a nightmare with him as head of house.”

“Why do you care?” John asked.

Laf’s eyes found Herc’s from across the table, and the look they shared seemed to say here we go again. “Because he’s my friend, Laurens.” Herc said pointedly.

“He’s a Slytherin! And he almost got Eliza killed!”

“And then almost got himself kicked out trying to fix it.” Laf sighed, deciding not to point out that he hadn’t seen John going to Washington to plead her case. The last time he’d made that particular case, John hadn’t spoken to him for the rest of the day.

This time, it seemed that even his restraint wouldn’t do them much good. John stood, flushing angrily. “So it’s like that, is it?”

“It’s not like anything. You’ve got a stick up your but when it comes to Slytherins? Fine. Good for you. But don’t take it out on the rest of us just because you can’t deal with the fact we’re friends with one of them.”

John glared at Herc and Laf in turn, then gathered his books and stalked away without another word.

“A stick up your but? Real eloquent, Herc.” Laf said.

“It was about time someone said it,” Herc replied with a shrug, although he did look a little guilty. “I get that he hasn’t had the best experiences with Slytherins, I really do understand that. But that’s not going to stop me being friends with Alex.”

Laf sighed, running his hands through his hair. “He’ll come around.”

“That’s what I said a month ago.”

He turned back to that half-written potions paper on the desk in front of him, and couldn’t help wondering if all this work would be easier to manage than his friends.

  
  


\--

 

It seemed that Autumn had given way to winter overnight, Angelica mused, as she pulled her scarf a little tighter against the cold. She was sure that the trees had no longer turned from green to orange, the forbidden forest at the edge of the grounds resembling a great fire ablaze, before all the leaves had fallen and the icy wind moved in. She supposed that that had something to do with the whirlwind that was life at Hogwarts. 

They had only been here a term, and yet she wasn’t sure what she use to do with herself before the castle became her home. Between the lessons, each one revealing a new secret of the magical world, to the moving staircases and corridors bustling with people, the weeks soon merged into one constant surge of activity.

This was never more apparent than when there was a Quidditch match on. First years couldn’t play, of course, but it was impossible not to get swept up in the pre-match atmosphere that had been hanging over the school all week. Even though Ravenclaw weren’t playing, the buzz in the great hall that morning as the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff teams traded cheerful insults across the room had been infectious.

It was a fairly close match, going by the play so far. Angelica was far from a Quidditch expert but even she could tell that the two houses were evenly matched scoring, a handful of goals through the three hoops at either end of the pitch and narrowly avoiding blows from snaking bludgers. And anyway, she had far more of a handle of what was going on in the match than Alex did.

She’d refused to sit in the Hufflepuff stands with Eliza, declaring herself firmly neutral, and so was squeezed between Alex and Theo, patiently explaining the rules and tactics of the game unfolding before them. She’d never thought about the fact that Quidditch probably didn’t exist in the muggle world, what with the lack of broomsticks, flying balls and magic in general, but it was somewhat of a novelty to be watching a match with people who had never seen it before.

“Isn’t that a foul?” Theo asked, shocked.

“What?”

“There! She just hit one of those flying cannon-balls at him!”

“That’s what a beater does.”

“That’s barbaric!”

“That’s quidditch.”

On her other side, Alex was having an animated discussion with his friend about the scoring system. She still wasn’t exactly sure what to think of Aaron Burr. She knew all about his uncle, of course, her own father had spent many an evening ranting about Timothy Edwards and how he was single-handedly ruining the ministry of magic, much to the amusement of his daughters. But Alex seemed to like him, and there was a certain dry wit to the boy she couldn’t help find amusing. Right now, he seemed to be repressing the urge to throw Alex from the stand.

“But it doesn’t make any sense!”

“Those are the rules, Alexander!”

“Then the rules are stupid! 150 points just for catching one ball? You might as well not bother with the rest of the game! What if you did it on a system where points are subtracted for every ten minutes that-”

Burr groaned, although the sound was lost in the roar of the crowd as Hufflepuff scored. His exasperated eyes met Angelica's over the top of Aaron’s head, and she decided to give him the benefit of the doubt. Maybe he wasn’t so bad, no matter what Dad said about his family.

“Wait…” Theo frowned. “What happened? Did they win?”

“No, they just scored. That’s ten points and… you know what, let’s start again. So the big red ball’s called the quaffle…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick poll... what house do you guys see Maria Reynolds in? I've asked four different people and had four different answers so...


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will be incorporating some Harry Potter plot devices while completely ignoring others, so don;t e surprised as this begins to deviate further from Philosopher's Stone.

“Are you sure you’re going to be all right here on your own?” Aaron asked, his breath a visible puff of smoke in the December air. “I mean, I could stay…”

Alex forced a smile onto his face. “Don’t be stupid. You’ve got to go home for Christmas! I’ll be fine. Think I’m just going to get ahead on some reading.”

“Try not to go through the whole library before I get back.” 

“I wish. Have you seen how many books there are? I’d do well to get through them all in seven years. Now get out of here, you’ll miss the train.”

Aaron still looked somewhat doubtful, but he picked up his trunk all the same and the two of them trudged reluctantly to the entrance hall where cartridges were waiting to take the last few stragglers to the station. It seemed like most of the school was going home for Christmas this year, and the castle was already starting to feel eerily quiet. Theo had already gone on the earlier train, pausing only to flash a mischievous smile and tell him not to break too many rules without her, and now Aaron was leaving too. He was spending the Christmas holidays at home with his uncle, and Alex couldn't blame him. Hell, if he had somewhere like that to call home he’d go back every chance he got. But that didn't change the fact it was going to be a long two weeks on his own.

“Merry Christmas, I guess,” he said somewhat awkwardly when the two of them reached the door. 

“Merry Christmas, Alexander.” Aaron bit his lip, before reaching into his pocket and pulling out a small silver box. “I got you this.”

“Shit, Aaron, you didn't need to do that.” Alex protested, embarrassed. “I didn't even think about presents-“

“Just take it, would you?”

“Thanks,” Alex said, accepting the gift a little gingerly. “Do you want me to wait until Christmas day, or-?”

“No, you can open it. Just do me a favour and wait till I’ve gone, yeah?”

As if on cue, a bell rang, signaling that the last of the carriages was about to depart. Aaron looked around, then back to Alex. “See you next year, I suppose.”

Alex smiled as he watched his friend climb in the last carriage and drive away, trying to squash the sinking feeling in his stomach. He hadn't been lying, he was looking forward to the chance to lie around and do nothing but read for the next two weeks. But somewhere over the course of the term he’d somehow forgotten what loneliness was like, and now it’s presence was oppressive once again.

He thought of heading back down to the Slytherin common room and sitting on his own surrounded by dark stone, and shivered. Instead, he turned back inside and crossed to the great hall. He could just as well read in here, and it was only half an hour until they’d put out supper anyway.

The doors opened with a groan as he pushed them aside, and Alex was halfway towards his usual spot at the Slytherin table when he realised he wasn't alone in the room. John Laurens and his friend Lafayette were sitting at the other end of their table, deep in conversation about something. Had Eliza been with them, or even Hercules, he might have stuffed his pride and gone over to say hello, but something held him back. Maybe it was the fact they probably didn't want him awkwardly butting in. More likely it was the glare Laurens shot Alex when their eyes met  across the room. Either way, after a moment he turned and walked over to his own table where he sat down alone, and turned the small box over in his hands.

He hadn't said so much to Aaron at the time, but the gift meant more than the other boy could have realised. They used to do secret santa back at the orphanage, but this was the first real present Alex could remember getting. There was no way Aaron could have known that; his Uncle’s family screamed of wealth and presents were probably a commonplace part of Christmas for him, but Aaron had made Alex’s holiday whether he realised it or not.

He pulled of the ribbon eagerly and lifted the lid off the box. Inside there was a strange object that looked vaguely like a spinning top, which Alex examined in confusion before setting it carefully aside and picking up the scrap of parchment below it, covered in Aaron’s patient hand.

_ Dear Alexander. _ _ I’m guessing you opened this the moment I left, so at least you’ll be able to make the most of it this holiday. This is a sneakerscope, a device designed to go off in the presence of someone untrustworthy. I hate to break it to you, but you’re terrible at reading people, and I feel I should at least try and make you into a proper Slytherin.  _

_ Have a good Christmas, and I will see you in the new year. _

_ Sincerely, A.Burr. _

Alex had to snort at the formality of the letter, but there was something so sincerely Aaron about it’s tone that, already the idea of spending Christmas by himself weighed a little heavier on his shoulders.. Oh well, never let it be said that Alexander Hamilton didn't know how to make the best out of a situation. Four months ago, he would never have believed that he’d get to spend Christmas in a castle, and the building was practically begging to be explored. Theo would never forgive him if he came back and hadn't found at least two new secret passageways. But for now, he was perfectly happy to slip  _ Hogwarts, a History _ out of his bag, and stoically ignore the presence of the two Gryffindors until the tables filled up with food signalling supper.

 

\--

 

_ “God rest ye merry Hippogriffs, let nothing ye dismay…” _

Angelica opened her eyes a crack, frowning as she tried to work out who the hell would possibly be making so much noise at this time in the morning.

_ “Snow is falling on the ground, so do not fly away!” _

That was definitely the sound of singing, she decided. There better be a good reason for this, or someone was going to die.

_ “But save us all from the dark arts, should they lead us astray,” _

She heard the sound of her bedroom door open, and the muffled singing became a full on scream. Someone jumped on her bed, and Angelica tried in vain to pull the blankets over her head.

_ “OH TIDINGS OF COMFORT AND JOY!” _ Peggy yelled in her face, full on morning breath and everything.

“Ugh, what are you doing?” Angelica complained.

“It’s christmas, Angie! Get your butt downstairs, Dad says we can’t start opening presents until everyone’s there! Wake up, wake up!”

Angelica blinked the sleep from her eyes, Peggy’s words breaking through her tired grumblings. “Christmas?”

“Yeah, idiot, it’s Christmas day! Get up, I’m going to get Eliza!”

Angelica smirked as Peggy ran out of her room as quickly as she had come in. The ten year old was a whirlwind of energy at the best of times, but at Christmas there was no stopping her. But now Angelica was awake, she found herself almost falling out of bed as she pulled on her dressing gown and stumbled into the corridor. Somewhere, Peggy had started singing again, this time some version of  _ We Three Kings _ that Angelica definitely didn't remember teaching her, but that would probably get her kicked out of any church in the country. Despite herself, she smiled. Angelica had forgotten just how much she loved Christmas at home.

It wasn't long before they were all squeezed around the tree, eating Quality Streets (their father insisted on the muggle sweets for some reason) and giving out presents. The three sisters had already pulled on their traditional christmas jumpers. They were lumpy, hand knitted things and Angelica would deny it until her dying breath, but she loved them. And Dad was getting better every year - the pink one she was currently wearing with a big  _ A _ on the front could almost have been brought in a shop. Well, maybe a second hand shop, but still. When Mum had still been alive, she’d knit everything from baby blankets to tea cosies, and when Angelica pressed her face into the wool, it almost felt like she was here, celebrating Christmas with them again. 

She loved school, she really did, but Angelica knew she wouldn't give this up for the world. Peggy in a bright yellow jumper, her hair in two enormous buns that looked more like pompoms, Eliza, platts hanging loosely over her blue-clad shoulders and laughing at something Dad had said, the four of them just happy to be at home together. 

“So you’re honestly okay at school?” Dad asked later as the two of them peeled sprouts in the kitchen, a job Angelica had claimed as hers seeing as she was the oldest and the other two couldn't be trusted with knives (never mind the fact that there were only about sixteen months between the three of them.) 

“Why wouldn't I be?”

Dad shrugged. “I don't know. Eliza always sends pages and pages in her letters, and I’m lucky to get a note from you letting me know you’re still alive every couple of weeks.”

“I’ve been busy,” she said defensively. “There’s been a lot going on.”

He chuckled. “You don’t need to tell me that. My first term at Hogwarts, I’m pretty sure I fainted in the Great Hall at one point because I hadn't been sleeping enough. I’m not sure how Peggy’s going to make it.”

“I think it’s going to be the rest of Hogwarts in trouble when Peggy gets there. The school won’t know what hit it.”

Dad laughed. “That’s probably true. But you know, you can talk to me if there ever is something, right? It doesn't even have to be me.”

“I have people I can talk to. I’ve got Eliza, and Sally, and Alex-“

“Alex?” he raised an eyebrow suggestively and she shoved him. 

“Yeah, he’s a friend. Think he stayed at school over the holidays.”

“Really? He couldn’t see his family?”

Angelica bit her lip. “I’m not sure he has a family. He doesn't talk about it much, but…” she trailed off as Eliza and Peggy ran into the room, yelling at them to look outside. Snow had began to fall, just a tiny flurry of flakes, but Angelica wouldn't be surprised if it turned into a full on blizzard by lunchtime. Dad smiled as he lifted Peggy up to get a better  look, but she didn't miss his whisper of “Poor kid.”

And as she looked at her sisters, Angelica had to agree. She couldn't imagine Christmas without her family, and Alex had none.

 

\--

 

When John went to bed the night before, Laf’s snores echoing around the dorm that was only sleeping the two of them over the holidays, the castle had looked the same as ever. When he woke up on Christmas day, the world had turned white. He didn't know if it was magic, or just good old fashioned Scottish winter, but he decided it didn't matter. Even if he couldn't be at home, this was going to be the best Christmas ever. He kicked Laf awake, gesturing excitedly to the snow outside, and leapt on the small pile of presents at the foot of the bed.

The day was spent in a blur of christmas lights and eating far too much food, and some time after lunch the two of them were in the grounds hurling snowballs. They’d challenged a group of 3rd year Hufflepuffs to a fight, and two hours later John was sure that every student still at school had joined in. They trooped back up to the castle, soaked to the skin, and he was about to tell another joke when he happened to glance up. The castle windows were at patchwork of golden squares against a rapidly darkening sky, and silhouetted in one of them was a boy.

A moment later he was gone, a flash of dark hair, but John was sure it had been Alexander Hamilton.

Although he couldn't say why, the memory of the boy watching them from the window stayed stubbornly in the back of his mind for the rest of the day. As they snacked on Turkey sandwiches in the Great Hall that evening, he couldn't help but notice his absence, a conspicuous lack of noise from the Slytherin table.

Laf shoved him.

“Laurens, what is wrong with you? You are away with the pixies.”

“ _ Fairies _ , Laf.”

“Fairies? Where?” The french boy looked around in alarm, and John resisted the urge to smack his head against the table. 

Come that night, and John was still feeling itchy and restless for some unknown reason. By all rights he should be exhausted - a whole day of running around in the snow and eating more than he’d ever thought possible should have him fast asleep by now, but as a bell sounded out for midnight somewhere in the castle, John was still lying awake, listening to Laf snoring and watching the distant stars through the gap in his curtains. 

This was hopeless, he decided. Carefully, so as not to wake his sleeping friend, John pulled his dressing gown on, crept down the stairs, and slipped out of the portrait hole. It wasn't as if he made a habit of wandering around the school at night, per say, it was just that he’d never been much of a sleeper and the castle seemed to take on whole new dimensions after dark. The shadows twisted the hallways, and it was at times like these that John could almost believe the castle was alive. He’d become pretty adept at avoiding detection over the course of the term, and was sure he would know his way around blindfolded if it came to it, but exploring wasn't what he had his mind on right now. He’d heard some of the fourth years talking about the house elves who worked in the kitchens and how, if they took a liking to you, the’d be more than happy to provide food at any time of day. And he could really do with a hot chocolate about now.

In the end, John didn't even get that far. He was walking along a corridor, slippers muffling the sound of his feet on the stones, when a flash of wand light up ahead caught his attention. He froze for a moment, then acted on instinct and dove behind a suit of armour. A good thing too, because a moment later the sound of footsteps filled the corridor and a figure walked past his hiding place. Illuminated only by the blue light issuing from the tip of this wand, Professor Lee didn't look like he was in a good mood, and that was nothing compared to what he would do if he found John walking the corridors at night. The potions master had been looking for an excuse to slap John in detention all term, and he couldn’t help but imagine he had something worse than polishing trophies in mind.

Lee paused next to the suit of armour as if somehow sensing his presence and John covered his mouth with his hand, not daring to breathe. For a second, he thought he was screwed, but then Lee sniffed and moved on, leaving the corridor in darkness once more. 

John let out a shaky breath, leaning back against the stone wall. That had been too close. He had been hoping that no-one would be patrolling tonight, considering that it was christmas and there were only about twenty students in the school, but clearly he was wrong, and if there were teachers around he should probably get back into bed before he was caught. John slipped out of his hiding place and hurried back along the corridor in a half-jog. He rounded a corner… and collided squarely with a figure, sending him sprawling on the floor. 

He groaned, accepting the hand that shot out to pull him to his feet, then blinked and almost fell over again when he realised who it was he had bumped into. “Hamilton?”

Hamilton hadn't even bothered going to bed, it seemed. He was still in a pair of scuffed jeans and a jumper, and was carrying a thick book under his arm. “God, I’m sorry. Are you alright?” he asked.

“Fine.” John muttered. “What the hell are you doing walking around the corridors at night?”

“What the hell are you doing?” Hamilton countered defensively. “You’re the one who ran into me.”

“Well if you were looking where you were going-“

John’s argument was cut off by a voice booming through the castle. “Who’s there? Students out of bed!”

“Oh crap,” Hamilton said, turning to John with panicking eyes.

“Lee.” John replied. 

The two of them stared at each other for a moment, before saying together “Run!”

They hurtled away from the sound of shouting, barreling down corridors at random. For all his familiarity with the school, John soon had no idea where they were. He didn't look back to see if Lee was following, just focused on the pounding of his heart and Hamilton’s breath in his ear. 

“In here!” Hamilton hissed, and John followed him gratefully through a door, slamming it shut behind them. He leaned against the solid wood, breathing heavily..

“Merlin, that was too close. And here I was just wanting a hot chocolate,” he complained. “You know, I’m pretty sure this is your fault, Hamilton… Hamilton?”

When the argument he’d been expecting didn't come, John turned around. He was pretty sure the Slytherin hadn't even heard him. John followed his gaze to the corner of the room (he was pretty sure it was a disused classroom) to see something glinting in the corner. 

“What the hell is that?” he asked, moving past the other boy to see more clearly. It was, or at least appeared to be a mirror, an old antique one, easily taller than he was and starting to show the signs of age. There seemed to be some sort of inscription around the frame, and he moved closer to try and decipher it. And froze. Because it wasn't his reflection that stared back at him.

Well, that wasn't quite true. It was him alright, but the John Laurens in the mirror wasn't wearing pyjamas and and old dressing gown, nor did he look quite to anxious. He held himself upright with an air of confidence (and was he taller than John? No fair…) but that wasn't what really made the air catch in his throat. He was wearing scarlet quidditch robes, a sleek broom in one hand and the golden snitch in the other, holding the latter aloft while a distant crowd chanted his name and his father watched on with pride.

“Holy crap,” me murmured, moving closer to the reflection. What was this?

“Hamilton, you have to see this!” he demanded, turning back to the slytherin who still seemed frozen in shock. “I don’t know what the hell this mirror is, but look! I’ve won the Quidditch cup! Do you think it tells the future or something? What…?”

He trailed off, noticing the expression on Hamilton’s face for the first time. He looked to be in shock, cheeks pale and eyes glistening with something John could only think to describe as longing. What in the world…? He was about to ask what the hell was going on, when Hamilton took a shaking step forward, and when the boy spoke, his voice was barely a whisper.

“M-Mum?”

“Hamilton?”

He didn't seem to hear John. Hamilton only had eyes for the mirror and he raised a hand as if to reach out and touch the reflection. And John didn't know what the hell was going on, or what they was dealing with, but suddenly he didn't like this one bit. He’d grown up surrounded by magic, but he’d never seen anything like this before, and knew with a certainty he couldn’t explain that it was bad news. He put himself between the boy and the mirror.

“It’s not real. I don’t know what it is, but it’s not real. You need to snap out of it, Hamilton.” He didn't respond, and John took him forcefully by the shoulders. “Alex, look at me!”

He did, finally, with the look of someone who had just woken from a deep sleep, and frowned at John confused. 

“It’s not real,” John repeated, more softly this time.

“I know. It’s just…” Hamilton pulled himself free and wiped his nose on his sleeve. “I know. You don’t need to tell me that, well, my Mum’s dead.”

“Oh God, I’m sorry,” John responded automatically, before realising that was probably the last thing Alexander wanted to hear. Why hadn't I known that? “When did… I mean, you don’t have to tell me, obviously, but-“

“It’s okay.” Alexander turned away deliberately from the mirror and sat down at one of the desks. He folded his hands on the tabletop, and John almost though he wasn't going to speak when he swallowed and said “There was this storm, when I was little. A really bad one. I don’t really remember it to be honest, I was only two, but I remember the wind. It sounded like screaming and it never stopped and…” he took a shuddering breath. “They found me, afterwards, apparently,  in the ruins of what had been our house. The whole thing was destroyed, apart from this little circle where my crib was, like some shield or whatever.”

“A  shield charm?”

“Nah.” The boy shook his head, a bitter twist to his lips. “She wasn’t a witch. She was just my mum,”

“Jesus, Alex…” John whispered.

“She didn't make it. I mean, I’m pretty sure she didn’t or she would have come looking for me by now.  I don’t even have a photo, I’d almost forgotten what her face looked like, you know?”

John stared at the boy, wondering how in the hell he could have misjudged him so badly, and what he could even begin to say now to make up for it and somehow console him. In the end, he settled for “You know, I was on my way to get a hot chocolate. I hear the house elves in the kitchen will make you one if you ask nicely. If you wanted to come…?”

Alex looked up at him and for a moment John was terrified, somehow, he’d say no. Then a watery smile crept across his face.. “I’d like that.”


	4. Chapter 4

 

“Exactly how much sleep did you get last night?” John asked as Alex slumped into the seat next to him in transfiguration. Alex just glared at him, pulling out his textbook and doing his best not to slump over it, but John thought it was a fair question. The purple smudges under Alex's eyes, which John was starting to think were permanant were more pronounced than ever, and his hair hung limply around his face.

“Seriously, what were you doing?”

“Just leave it, would you?”

“He’s got a point,” Angelica put in from the next desk, not even trying to hide the fact she had been eavesdropping, and he couldn’t help but smirk.

It was something he hadn’t anticipated, but apparently being friends with Alexander Hamilton meant being friends with all of his friends as well. Over Christmas, it had just been the two of them and a slightly bemused Lafayette (who accepted their sudden overnight friendship with nothing more than a shake of the head and a mutter of  _ about bloody time _ ), but a week into term and he was having to come to terms with the fact that he suddenly had a whole group of people outside of his house who would watch his back. 

And for someone who had spent a whole term viewing his Gryffindor tie as a suit of armour against the rest of the world, it was taking some getting used to.

Of course, going through the process of trying to prove to these people that he wasn’t, in fact, an asshole, wasn’t instantaneous. He hadn’t exactly given them much to go on in that regard. Burr still looked at him as if expecting to have to draw his wand and duel any second, and even Angelica had quietly told him that if he started fighting with Alex again she’d castrate him with her shoe, before smiling and asking him to pass the pepper. But all the same, this was a version of John Laurens he wouldn’t mind getting used to.

“I hate to break it to you Alex, but you look like shit,” he offered.

“Something to share with the class?” Doctor Washington asked loudly, pausing her explanation of (God, John actually had no idea what they were supposed to be learning) to frown in their direction.

“No, sorry professor.”

He pulled out a sheet of parchment and began to copy down words at random from the blackboard. Alex didn’t reply until she finally turned away again.

“Look, I’ll tell you later, yeah?”

The lesson seemed to pass at a crawl after that, with John trying to work under the Doc’s eagle eyes, all the while wondering what was suddenly wrong with Alex. He’d seemed tired these past few weeks, sure, but that was just Alex. The boy seemed to run on skittish energy and far more coffee than any eleven-year-old had the right to be drinking. Never had he seemed so utterly exhausted before.

Much to his frustration, he didn’t have the chance to talk to Alex after the lesson. The moment the bell went, the Slytherin had swept his notes into his bag and disappeared into the crowd of students that filled the corridors. It wasn’t until after lunch that he finally managed to corner him.

“Seriously John, calm down,” Alex protested as he was dragged unceremoniously into a bathroom. 

“I am calm,” he replied, trying to check that all the stalls were empty without being too obvious. Evidently he failed because Alex rolled his in his direction, with a look that clearly said  _ yeah, sure _ .

“Well what do you want me to do? Look at you, you look like you’re about to collapse! You’re stressing me out, man, it’s like suddenly I’m your mother or something.”

Alex’s jaw twitched, and a moment later John realised what he’d said. “Shit, sorry man. I didn’t mean-”

“It’s okay,” Alex said quietly. “That’s what… the mirror, it’s gone.”

“Oh God,” John leant back against the sinks. “You’ve been going back there, haven’t you?”

Alex nodded.

“Christ, Alex, I thought we agreed that that thing was bad news!”

“I know. It’s just… I never thought I’d see her again, you know? And suddenly I could, and-”

“How often?”

“Every night I could. The guys in my dorm are light sleepers. And last night I went back and, well, it wasn’t there.”

John bit his lip.. He wanted to smack Alex for being so stupid, wanted to yell at him for doing exactly what he’d told him not to do, wanted to hug tight the boy who spent his nights staring at the face of his dead mother… In the end, he settled for clapping him on the shoulder. 

“I’m sorry, man, I really am. But don’t go looking for it again. Please?”

Alex looked like he wanted to argue, but a moment later the fight drained out of his shoulders. “Okay.” 

“Honestly, Alex, sometimes families aren’t all they’re cracked up to be. I’m pretty sure Dad wouldn’t even be writing to me if Mum wasn’t making him. I’m not exactly the perfect Slytherin son he wanted.” He forced out a laugh, failing to disperse some of the tension. “Who needs him, eh?”

“John…”

“Nope. We’re not doing the self-pity thing. Now you are going to get some sleep, and I am going to go and ask Eliza if her sister’s capable of castrating someone with her shoes or not.”

“Wait, what?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

And it was probably a sign of how tired Alex was that he just shrugged and accepted John’s weird comment without question. And if he leaned on John’s shoulder a bit more than was necessary on the way back up to the Gryffindor common room, he could blame that on the lack of sleep as well.

  
\--

 

“You’re in my chair.”

Herc ignored the complaint, at least until something sharp and wand-shaped poked into his side.

“Hey!” he complained, glaring up at a Lafayette who seems completely unrepentant. “What was that for?” 

“I told you, you’re in my chair.”

“Oh, shove off, De Mottier.” 

Laf smirked good naturedly and eventually settled in an armchair.. He yawned and stretched out before flopping dramatically down. Hercules smirked to himself. Laf had a habit of getting himself in the weirdest of positions without even thinking about it. Take now for instance, the boy was draped gracefully across the armchair, legs sticking up over one arm and face almost upside down as he grinned at Herc from across the common room.

“What are you doing?”

Herc held up the catalogue in his hands, the words  _ Zonko’s _ emblazoned across the cover in bright orange. “Trying to work out what to send my brother. He keeps badgering me for souvenirs, but I don’t want to get him something that’s gonna accidentally burn the house down. That might be a bit noticeable in the middle of Dublin.”

“And you thought that a magical joke shop was the way to go for buying nice, safe, muggle-friendly presents?”

He shrugged. “Hugh’s ten. He’s not exactly going to be enamoured with a book is he?” Although, now he said it, Herc was sure that Hugh would love anything sent his way, as long as it came from the magical world. His mother had never made a secret of the fact that she was a witch, but living in the middle of a muggle city meant that they’d had a limited exposure to  magic growing up. If not for the fact that the tea occasionally brewed itself, Herc could almost have forgotten that another world was hidden within their own until the day his Hogwarts letter came.

Well, that wasn’t exactly true. To hear everyone talk about it, almost every young witch or wizard showed some signs of magical powers when they were young. Herc supposed, ruefully, that he had been somewhat of an exception to the rule, but the same couldn’t be said for his younger brother. Magic had seemed to follow Hugh his whole life, manifesting itself in the strangest of ways and generally getting them both into trouble. 

“So it’s between the dungbombs and the instant darkness powder,” he announced sometime later, having decided that they were probably the safest two items in the whole catalogue.

“Go for the dungbombs. Less obviously magical.”

“Good call,” he smirked. “There’s some amazing stuff in here, though. I can’t wait until Third Year when we can actually visit the shops ourselves. Think of all the crap we could pull on Lee with this stuff.”

“Why wait until third year?” Laf spun himself back into a semi-normal sitting position and grinned wickedly. “If you’re making an order, why not make it a big one?”

“It’s a nice idea,” Herc allowed. “But I’m not going to be able to afford half this stuff.”

“I can.”

Herc opened his mouth, then closed it again. It was a question he’d never quite gotten around to asking Laf in the months he’d known him, something he’d never worked out how to phrase. It wasn’t that his best friend was flashy, per say, it was more of a slowly dawning suspicion that had crept up on him every time Laf told a story about his holidays, or pulled out an elegant quill to write with.

“Laf…” he began cautiously, before deciding _fuck it._ “Are you rich?”

The offended twist of the mouth that Herc had been afraid of never came. Lafayette just stared at him for a minute, before smiling ruefully. “I suppose you could say that. I inherited some money that my family wished me to use freely.”

“And they’d be cool you to spend it on pranks?” Herc asked, because in his admittedly limited experience with fortunes, they tended to be used for more serious things.

“I think they’d be delighted.”

“Okay then,” Herc said, turning back to the Zonkos catalogue with renewed interest. “What do you think would piss Lee off the most?”

  
  
\--

 

“Alexander Hamilton,” Angelica declared loudly, storming over the the Slytherin table with a fire behind her eyes and Eliza in tow.. “You are an asshole.”

Alex frowned up at her around a mouthful of cornflakes and wondered what he could possibly have done to upset them so early in the morning. Around them, people paused their conversations with interest, and over her shoulder, he could see the Gryffindor boys shooting confused looks in his direction.

“And a good morning to you too,” he said pleasantly. “Coffee?”

“Cut the crap. You’re a dick, you know that? How could you not tell us it was your birthday?”

“I’m sorry, what?” Alex asked, because of all the things he might have expected Angelica to be pissed about, that was not one of them. However his own confusion was drowned out by Theo.

“What? Your birthday?”

“It’s really not a big deal.” Alex protested, but the damage was done. A shout of protest came up from the Gryffindor table, and before he could stop them, Herc, Laf and John were piling onto the benches around him, the latter only pausing a moment before doing so. Older Slytherins grudgingly moved down to give the group room, clearly deciding it was far too early in the morning to be dealing with a group of excitable first years.

“And why exactly was this a secret?” Laf demanded.

“Yeah, Ham, what gives?”

“Nothing gives. It’s just really not that important. I just forgot, that’s all.”

“You forgot your own birthday?” Aaron raised a sceptical eyebrow. 

“It’s never really been much of an occasion.”

“What, you’re parents don’t celebrate it or something?” Herc asked, and before Alex could so much as open his mouth to answer, Angelica stomped on his foot, shooting him a meaningful look. He’d never told her in as many words that he didn’t have a family, but Alex had had a suspicion that she’d somehow worked it out in the months they’d know each other. He didn’t talk about it if he could help it, but he was sure she’d been smart enough to read between the lines and come to the conclusion herself, and from the way Eliza was glaring at Hercules, to tell her sister not to bring the matter up around him.

“What?” Herc asked, confused.

“We should do something tonight,” John declared loudly, and Alex was grateful for him steering the conversation away. That was, until he realised what John had just said and shook his head.

“Don’t do that! It’s really not a big deal.”

“Yes it is. You don’t get a choice.”

“But-”

“Alexander,” Aaron interrupted. “Just let us do this.”

“Oh God, John and Aaron are agreeing. You really don’t get a choice,” Eliza smirked, and Alex threw up his hands in surrender. 

“I hate you all, just for the record. And I’m going to be late for charms.” he snagged his bag and walked away, wishing his friends would just leave the matter alone. His birthday had never been anything of importance, so why start now? It really wasn’t worth going to all the trouble. 

Alex shouldn’t have been surprised really, when he’d barely gotten past the entrance hall before Aaron caught up with him. “Just leave it, would you Burr?” he groaned as the two of them began to climb the staircases. 

“I’ll make sure they keep it small. You don’t want a fuss, I get it.”

“Thanks,”

Aaron glanced around them as they walked, even though Alex had been lying through his teeth about being late and most of the school was still in breakfast. Once he was seemingly satisfied that they were alone, he said “So who else knows about your parents?”

Alex stopped walking to look at him. “I’m guessing you noticed Angelica’s little overreaction in breakfast, then?”

“Hard to miss it really,”

“I think the Schuylers know, or at least Angelica’s guessed pretty close to the mark. And John knows. I kind of told him everything over Christmas.”

Aaron was quick to smooth his scowl back into a neutral expression, but Alex caught it all the same. He knew he didn’t like the Gryffindor all that much, and that whatever the disagreement between them was, it predated Hogwarts by some margin. But he seemed to be willing to make an effort, which was more than Alex could say for himself for the whole of last term, so he didn’t push the matter. 

Eventually, Aaron sighed. “What do you want me to tell Theo? She’s not stupid, you know. She’s noticed you never get owls, that you never talk about your family. There’s only so long I can hold her off.”

“The truth.” Alex fiddled with his tie distractedly. “It’s not exactly a secret. Tell everyone if you want. Just, you know…”

“It’s not a big deal?” Aaron finished with a small smile.

“Exactly.” Alex turned to walk up the stairs, and Aaron called after him.

“Alexander! Um, if you did, want to talk to someone.. Well…” he floundered awkwardly, the words seeming to cause him physical pain as he forced them out. “We’re friends, yeah, and, well, I guess I’m here if you need it.”

“Oh my gosh…” he grinned, amusement narrowly winning out over embarrassment. “Was that an actual emotion from Aaron Burr?”

“Don’t make me say it again.”

 

\--

 

“I still can’t believe you brought that damned mirror here. This is a school, George, unless you’d forgotten!”

George leaned back in his chair with a sigh, and Martha had to remind herself that turning her husband into pigeon probably wouldn’t help her cause, no matter how satisfying it may be. They’d had the versions of this same fight a hundred times, but it never failed to drive her mad.

“It’s safe now, and locked away where no-one’s ever going to find it again.”

“And what about the children's safety? What if a student had found that thing? You know what the mirror does to people, what _he_ used it for-“

“Which is why I had to protect it.”

George rarely raised his voice when they argued. She had a tendency to shout the entire castle down if it would help her, but George’s tone never wavered. Martha took a deep breath, and crossed the office to lean against the edge of his desk. She took her husband’s hands in her own.

“The war’s over, Love. It’s been over for ten years. We won, and you don’t need to treat every little thing like it’s a battle.”

George glanced at her, and it was in moments like these that she struggled to tell them apart: her husband the professor, and the hardened battle commander who had once lead a battalion with his wand raised high. Logically, she knew they were the same person, that there were a hundred versions of the man and that she loved each one unconditionally. It was just easier to pretend, sometimes, that the war which had torn so many families apart had happened to some other people, somewhere else, and that the darkness could never touch them. 

Which wasn’t easy, not with a reminder of all that had happened walking around the school and sitting in her transfiguration classroom, blissfully unaware of the little twinge of pain that hit her every time she looked in his direction.

“You’re right,” George said, finally. “Next time something crops up, I’ll let the ministry deal with it.”

“The ministry?” Martha raised an eyebrow. She knew George trusted the ministry of magic about as far as he could throw them, and with good reason. 

“Okay, maybe not the ministry.”

“Next time,” she said softly. “We’ll deal with it together. I don’t want to get owl telling me you’ve gone running off to chase another of the Mad King’s possessions.”

“Ten years.” George sighed. “Ten years, and he still scares me.”

“You scared him more.”

He kissed her fingers tenderly. “What would I do without you?”

“Well, you would have been eaten by that Nundu in Namibia for one thing…”

Even as he protested, George chuckled lightly, and Martha knew that they were going to be okay. After everything they had fought for side by side, it was going to take more than a cursed mirror to break them.

  
  
\--

 

It was one one of the great things about going to school in a castle, Eliza decided. Even in the middle of January when the frost was sharp in the air, and going outside involved every layer of clothes you could find, there was always plenty of space to have a picnic.

It hadn’t even been difficult, despite Alex’s stuttering protests and blushing words of thanks. They’d simply covered one of the empty classrooms in streamers (Laf was amazing at materialising them with a flourish of his wand) and John had somehow charmed the kitchen into providing pizzas and an enormous cake. It really wasn’t much, but the slight shimmer in Alex’s eyes when they sung him happy birthday made her sure it had all been worthwhile.

“So,” Herc said sometime later, voice muffled by the enormous chunk of cake he was trying to eat. “Twelve years old. Any chance you’re going to grow this year?”

Alex’s eyes narrowed as the rest of them smirked. “Come on, I’m not that small.”

“Yes you are.” Aaron replied. “Even Laurens is taller than you.”

Both John and Alex began to splutter in outrage at that, and Eliza was laughing so hard she almost missed the insistent tapping sound. It came again, louder this time, and one by one they all fell silent, looking around for the source.

“What the hell is that?” John asked.

“At the window!” They all followed Angelica’s pointed finger. “Is that an owl?”

If owls could look affronted, this one was doing just that. It seemed to narrow its amber eyes for a moment in Angelica’s direction as if to say  _ well of course _ before beginning to tap at the window with its beak again. They all glanced at each other in confusion, before Aaron crossed to the window and pulled it open.

Immediately, the bird flew inside. It circled twice around the room, sending everyone ducking out of its way, and Eliza just had time to realise it was carrying something in its talons before it came to land on the chair next to Alex.

For a moment, the boy and the bird simply stared at each other, the former clearly confused while the later looked as close to exasperated as an owl could be. It dropped the package and gave him a rather pointed look. Cautiously, he reached out his hand and smoothed the ruffled feathers, only to pull back a moment later as the owl took flight once more, spreading its wings and leaving out the open window.

They watched it disappear into the evening sky, dark feathers slowly becoming one with the clouds until it disappeared from sight altogether.

“Where do you think it came from?”

Eliza shrugged. The bird had been  smaller than Moses, her dad’s owl who appeared in the great hall about once a week delivering letters or something one of them had asked for from home.

“Who cares?” Angelica asked. “What was it carrying?”

They all looked at the lumpy package deposited on the floor. It was wrapped in brown paper, the sort she was sure you’d find at a muggle post office, and tied together with string that Alex fought with for several moments before managing to unwrap. He pulled the paper away to reveal a mass of shimmering fabric.

“What’s this supposed to be? A cloak?” Alex asked. 

Eliza however, felt the air stick in her throat. A glance in Angelica’s direction showed that her sister had a matching look of shock on her face. She was sure she knew exactly what it was.

“Alex,” she said, fighting to keep her voice steady. “Put it on.”

“What?”

“Just do it, would you?”

With a mystified expression, Alex shrugged and swung the fabric around himself, fastening it at his throat. Then looked down, and promptly yelped, jumping backwards in surprise. Which, she supposed was a fair reaction to seeing that your entire body had disappeared. He looked up, and it would have been funny to see a floating disembodied head look so panicked if she didn’t know her friend was probably freaking out. “What happened to my body?”

“It’s an invisibility cloak.” she explained gently. “Dad told us about them.”

“They’re supposed to be really rare though,” Angelica added, a little faintly. “The ministry rounded them all up years ago. There can’t be more than a handful left that aren’t locked away.”

Laf and Herc exchanged looks that were almost gleeful. “Cool,” Herc whispered while Laf whistled appreciatively, and she was sure they were imagining all the mischief they could get up to with an invisibility cloak on their side. Aaron, however , was frowning.

“Who would be sending you an invisibility cloak? Does anyone else find that really wierd?”

“Was there a note?” Eliza asked.

Alex pulled of the cloak, which took on a silvery appearance once again on becoming visible, and laid it carefully over the back of a chair. He picked up the the paper again, and a slip of parchment floated to the floor. They all stared at it for a moment, before Alex picked it up, cleared his throat, and read the words aloud with a voice that strained to remain steady.

 

_ Dear Alexander, _

_ I hope you never need this, I really do, but it seemed only right you should have it. _

_ Good luck, and happy birthday _

_ JJF _

 

He looked up when he was done, looking at each one of them in turn, only to be met by a room of mystified faces.

“JJF? Who’s JJF” Eliza asked tentatively.

“No idea.”

“A friend, or a relation, or-”

“I don’t have any relations,” he pointed out, and from the lack of visible reaction Eliza was sure that Aaron had had a quiet word with everyone since Herc’s comments this morning. “And my Mum was a muggle. I don’t know anyone from the wizarding world outside the school.”

For a long moment, no one spoke. It felt all of a sudden as they were imposing on a private moment. Alex had no more clue as to what was going on as the rest of them, but Eliza couldn’t help but get the impression that, whatever it was, this was as personal as it was important, and all of Alex’s friends knew without him having any say in the matter.

It was Angelica who broke the silence. “Then let’s find out.”

“What?”

“JJF. How many witches or wizards can there be with those initials? If Alex says it's not ringing any bells with him-”

“Which it isn’t,”

“- then we’ve got nothing else to go on. We can start in the library and narrow it down from there. I mean, if you want us to, that is.” She faltered. “I completely get if you want to work out what’s going on yourself or whatever, but if you want some help… well, I’m in.”

“Me too,” Eliza decided.

“And me.”

The others all murmured their agreements, and Alex glanced down at the note still clutched in his hands before looking up at his friends with wide eyes.

“Okay.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Polling still open on Maria's house

It had been three weeks. Three long, frustrating weeks, during which everyone had spent far more time in the library than any first year had any right to do so, pouring over books with nothing to show for it.

Well, Alex had a crick in his neck to show for it, but he doubted that was going to bring him any closer to finding out who had sent him the cloak.

“We’ll find something,” Herc promised reassuringly.

“Maybe there’s just nothing to find,” he sighed, slumping back in his chair. “Maybe it was just a random nutter-”

“Who decided to send a priceless invisibility cloak to a twelve year old they’d never met?”

“And you’re sure you don’t know anyone-”

“For the millionth time, no. I told you. My Mum, who was a muggle, died in a hurricane when I was two and I’ve been living in a muggle orphanage since.”

“And your Dad?”

He shrugged. “Dead. Gone. Don’t know. Don’t really care. And _Hamilton_ doesn’t exactly sound like a pureblood wizard family name, does it?”

To Alex’s tremendous surprise, it had been easy to tell everyone about his past. He wasn’t ashamed of it, he wore his muggle-born status like a badge of honour in fact, but it had been nice to be somewhere when people looked at him and saw more than just a skinny orphan. John, now he thought about it, had been the first person he’d ever told the whole story. Everyone at home already knew, and even Aaron had been under the assumption that he lived with family or something. 

So it had been with a hammering heart and eyes that never left the floor as he told his friends the short and uninspiring life story of Alexander Hamilton. He didn’t know what he’d been more afraid of, looks of disgust or looks of pity, but when he was done, amazingly, he had received neither. His friends had just nodded, instantly accepting, and gotten to work.

“Well maybe they were fake initials,” Aaron suggested. “Didn’t people use to do that when they were writing secret messages or anonymous pamphlets of something?”

“In which case we’ve got less than nothing to go on.”

They’d been having the same conversation for three weeks now, and they always ended up circling back to square one.

“Why don’t we leave it for today?” suggested Laf, who’d long since given up flicking through his book on wizarding genealogy and was instead scribbling down his charms homework that had been due days ago. “We’ll find something eventually, and I doubt that this JJF is going anywhere.”

That much was certainly true. Whoever they were dealing with had taken ten years to get in touch with Alex, so he probably didn’t need to solve this mystery in the next ten minutes. No matter how much it infuriated him.

He was saved answering by the arrival of Angelica and Eliza, the latter carrying a piece of parchment in her hands. “What are you guys doing this weekend?” she asked.

“Um, nothing?”

“Wrong. You’re meeting our sister.”

They all sat up a little straighter with interest. “Peggy, yeah?” Herc asked.

“How come?”

“Dad’s got a meeting with Washington. He’s going to be staying in Hogsmeade for the weekend so he thought he’d make a proper trip of it and bring Peggy along too.”

“That’s so sweet.” Theo said. “But don’t you want to spend time with your family without us all getting in the way?”

Eliza smiled ruefully. “Peggy’s desperate to meet you all. I may have told her about you all and, well, once she gets an idea into her head there’s no stopping her.”

“What’s she like then?”

“Honestly?” Angelica asked. “Bat-shit insane. You guys are going to love her.”

  
\--  
  
  


After you’d spent a couple of months at Hogwarts, Aaron thought with some amusement, there was very little left that could raised your eyebrows. Miniature explosions over breakfast? Your charms teacher turning himself into a canary and back just to illustrate a point? Having a conversation with a witch who had been burned at the stake three-hundred years ago? These were just things that had happened to him this morning. You either had to learn to just go with the crazy, or find yourself somewhere else to go to school.

So really, it was somewhat infuriating that Theo managed to be the single most suprising thing that happened to him all day.

“Do you want to maybe calm down?” he suggested, his (traitorous) eyebrow rising in amusement.

She paused, halfway across the common room floor, although he was pretty sure it was more to do with the fact that she needed to take a deep breath than anything he’d said, before continuing with her rant. The subject of today’s ire (because she really did have quite a temper): Professor Lee.

“-and honestly, who the fuck does he think he is?  _ You need to start showing some house loyalty _ , Prevost, I mean honestly. Screw his arrogant, pompous,  _ hijo de puta _ , telling me how to live my life like the dick he is. You know, Lee can stick his house pride right up the-”

“Now, now, that’s no way to speak about our grand and noble house of Slytherin, is it?” came a snide voice from the top of the stairs, and the two of them turned to see a fifth year stroll into the common room. A prefects badge was pinned to the front of his emerald robes, and he smiled as he crossed the stone floor. Aaron suppressed the urge to groan.

“Afternoon, children,”

“Seabury,” Aaron acknowledged the older boy, hoping he was would just go away. 

“You know, this isn’t very patriotic talk I’m hearing. I’d have thought a pair of ickle first years would have a bit more respect than that, wouldn’t you? What do you think, Burr?”

Aaron kept his eyes firmly on the ground, not trusting himself to reply. He knew Seabury well enough to know that he was exactly the kind of boy his uncle was hoping he’d grow into. Proud and acute and totally convinced of their own position in the world. Between all the strained dinner parties he’d been forced to attend growing up, and the train journeys from school and back over christmas when he’d been invited to sit in their compartment with a smile that suggested it wasn’t a request, he knew the fifth year and his ilk very well indeed. 

“Nothing to say?” he studied Aaron for a moment. “Shame. Do let me know, Burr, if you ever want to stop wasting your time and throw your lot in with some real Slytherins instead, will you?” And then he was gone, whistling as he went. Deep inside his pockets, Aaron’s hands curled into fists of their own accord, yet he remained perfectly still, face as passive as possible. It wouldn't do to piss Seabury off, not when word would surely get back to his uncle sooner or later.

Theo, on the other hand, had no such qualms. “What the hell was that about?” she asked, flipping the bird in the direction of the door Seabury had just left from. “Real Slytherins. What an asshole.”

“Unfortunately, he’s an asshole who can put us in detention for the rest of our natural lives if it takes his fancy. It’s best just to ignore him.”

“Yeah, ignoring him. Because that’s your answer to everything, isn’t it?”

“Theo…” He pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to work out how to put this into words, the sense of duty and ever constant pressure sitting on his shoulders, staring back at him in the mirror every morning as he knotted his tie. Neither she nor Alex seemed to be aware of it, somehow, and he caught himself staring at them on occasion, incredulous that they couldn’t feel the sense of just what it meant for him to be a Slytherin. “It’s complicated, okay? Some of the families here are old, they have a certain way of seeing the world. I’ve been living with them my whole life, and they’re not going to change.”

“And that’s okay? You know exactly what he means by  _ real Slytherin _ , I know for a fact you’re not that naive, so don’t pretend you don’t.”

Aaron looked at her, at the t shirt covered in ink from an exploded biro pen (which she refused to trade in for a quill), advertising some band he’d never heard of, at the faded friendship bracelet knotted around her wrist, the hundred and one tiny details that marked her out as different. As muggle. It would have been hard enough in any house, even now, but here it was little more than a target painted on her back..

He spread his hands helplessly. “So what do you want me to do?”

She shook her head. “Wow. You know sometimes I think John’s right about you. You’re just like the rest of your family.”

There was a fire dancing behind her eyes as she stood and marched away, the sort of quietly smouldering rage he had come to recognise, but never been on the receiving end of before. Aaron sank back down onto the sofa, the crackling fire doing nothing to disperse the chill that had seemed to settle on the room, and wondered how he seemed somehow destined to screw up everything he touched.

  
\--

 

“Angelica!”

She jerked her head up sharply, disorientated for a moment before the face of James Madison swam into view, just inches of her own. “You alright there?” he asked.

“Yeah, just reading. Sorry. Didn’t hear you the first time.”

He smiled ruefully. “Don’t worry, I know the feeling. I was just wondering if you wanted tea.”

It was one of the best things about being in Ravenclaw, Angelica had long since decided. She didn’t know if it was a permanent feature of the house or just the fact that the seventh years needed their caffeine, but the teapot sitting on the windowsill was always full to the brim and always piping hot.

“Please,” she smiled gratefully, and James returned a minute later with two chipped mugs in his hands. She accepted hers and just inhaled for moment, relaxing into the scent. James, meanwhile, was just watching her with amusement. Not that it was obvious; he seemed as impatient as ever, watching her evenly from over his own mug, but she didn’t miss the way the edge of his mouth twitched slightly.

“What?”

“What what?”

“You’re laughing at me.”

“No I’m not. I’m just wondering what the sudden caffeine addictions about. Stressful day?"

“It’s just good tea!” she replied defensively. 

“It’s always good tea.”

“Not when I make it.” Angelica had something of a love-hate relationship with the enchanted tea-pot. For all it could save her life, she was pretty sure that it played favourites. And she was definitely not a favourite.

“Be nicer to it then,” James suggested. “What are you reading?”

Angelica glared at the book in front of her, before slamming it shut and spinning it around on the table so he could read the faded leather cover. 

“Weather magic?” he asked, faintly impressed. “That’s third year stuff.”

“I’m not trying to do it or anything, I just got curious about the theory. Paine mentioned it in charms,” she lied, because she wasn’t sure Alex would appreciate her telling everyone who asked that she was trying to work out which storm had killed his mother.”

“Still, that’s hard stuff. All sorts of legislation on it.”

“Legislation?”

“Sure.” 

James Madison, as she had learnt many months ago, was an expert on all areas of magical law. Not that there was much he seems not to be an expert on, admittedly, but she was sure he would be able to tell her anything about any obscure piece of Ministry legislation she wanted. He could be seen every morning at breakfast with his nose buried in a copy of the prophet that was twice his size (although nine times out ten he was just reading his horoscope, not that he’d ever admit it). 

“It’s a real problem spot because it’s so large scale, yeah? Changing a music box into a mouse, that’s easy enough to hide, but try explaining to a whole country why it's suddenly snowing in July.”

“So what do they tell the muggles?” she asked, striving to keep her voice casual. “If there's a snow, or a heatwave, or, you know, a hurricane?”

“It’s not that common, to be honest. Not here, anyway. Haven’t had anything bigger than some fines for localised  blizzards in twenty years. Obviously it's much easier to get away with freak weather in tropical countries, but they’re a bit more lax there anyway. You know wizards in Brazil are allowed to ride brooms in public because of all their old superstitions, and-”

“Shut up.”

He blushed. “Sorry, I’m ranting again. I know I need to stop, I-”

“No, shut up and tell me what you just said again.” Angelica didn’t even care that technically that sentence didn’t make any sense, because she’d just gotten a Very Bad Feeling about Alex.

“Old superstitions?” James asked, confused.

“No, before that. The bit about the blizzards.”

“That’s the most serious weather offence in Britain in the last twenty years. It was up in Scotland, anyway, so even though it was September no one thought it was too weird. Think it was some Hogwarts kids… hey, where are you going?”

James question came out as a shout, because Angelica had stood up and run towards the door without so much of a goodbye. She turned back to look at him. “On second thoughts, I’ll skip the tea Maddy! I need to go check something!” 

And if was left staring in confusion after her, Angelica had no idea. She was already running towards the library, praying that no one had remembered to lock the restricted section.

  
\--  
  
  


Had Hercules put any time into imagining what the youngest Schuyler would be like, he would have been way off the mark. He supposed, if pushed, he was expecting someone similar to her sisters, with Eliza’s quiet kindness and Angelica’s shrewd eyes, perhaps. As it turned out, Peggy Schuyler was nothing like her sisters.

He met the others in the Entrance Hall on sunday morning, early enough that the light streaming in low through the windows were still casting long shadows and the rest of the school were still in bed. Well, when he said the others, he meant Alex and Eliza. There was no sign of Angelica, and he’d had no luck in dragging John or Laf from their beds, the cursing him out in a language that definitely wasn’t English, but he doubted it was French either, before rolling over and started snoring again.

“What time did they say they’d be here?” Alex asked, trying and failing to conceal a huge yawn.

“Any time now.”

Already, the smells of breakfast were drifting in from the great hall, and Herc felt his stomach rumble treacherously. He was just debating whether he had time to run and get himself a bacon butty when someone screamed.

He’d never be able to work out how such a small person could make such a loud noise. Peggy Schuyler had to be shorter than Alex, a blur of dark curls and wild eyes who all but sprinted across the hall and threw herself at Eliza.

“Woah, calm down,” Eliza said, staggering backwards slightly. “I only saw you a month ago.”

“But a month’s so long. And it’s so boring without you guys.. I’m stuck at home with Dad.”

“You love it really. He spoils you rotten.”

Peggy stuck a pointed tongue out in response, then turned to Herc and narrowed her eyes. “You’re not Angie.”

“Not the last time I checked, no.”

“Ignore my sister,” Eliza said. “She’s got all the manners of a bogtroll.”

“You’re the bogtroll.”

“And all the maturity of one too. These are my friends Hercules and Alex.”

“Like the demigod?”

That was one of the bonuses of Hogwarts, Herc had long since decided. What with all the old-as-dirt pureblood families and weird wizarding traditions, his name was far from the weirdest. A few muggleborn students smirked, sure, but no-one had started singing disney songs at him yet. 

“Yep. That’s a muggle myth, though. How do you know that?”

“I know everything.” Peggy replied smugly.

“She likes the scary ones.” Eliza corrected, then frowned down at Peggy. “Where’s Dad?”

“He’ll be here in a minute. Said something about getting our room sorted out before he met with Washington.”

“What’s the meeting even about?”

“I don’t know.” she shrugged. “Grown up stuff. Bet you ten galleons they’re just gonna be drinking firewhisky and swapping war stories.”

“You don’t have ten galleons,” Eliza pointed out, but Alex was frowning.

“War stories? Washington was a soldier?”

“Oh yeah,” Herc said. “A general. Complete badass by all accounts.”

“So what’s he doing teaching?”

“Maybe he fancied a change,” Herc said with a shrug, honestly never having thought about it. “I mean, you can’t be a soldier for ever. Your Dad’s not anymore, is he?”

“He’s an auror, though. That’s pretty close.”

Alex looked like he wanted to ask another question, and Herc could practically hear the cogs of that ridiculous brain whirring. He half expected steam to start issuing from the Slytherin’s ears, but before he could work out what it was he wanted to say, the doors of the entrance hall opened, and a man that could only be Mr Schuyler walked in. He was dressed, much to Herc’s surprise, not in ministerial robes, or any robes at all for that matter. Instead, he wore old jeans, a knitted cardigan, and a friendly smile. Had Herc not known this man was a trained dark wizard catcher, it would be easy to believe he was harmless. 

“Dad!” Eliza said. “You were ages!”

Philip Schuyler frowned down at his middle daughter, but it was the sort of frown that masked wry amusement. “I did have to get us settled in Hogsmeade, you know. Lovely place, but every other person wants to tell you their life story… Where’s your sister got to?”

“No idea. Anyone seen Angelica?”

They all shook their heads.

“Oh, Dad, come meet my friends!” Eliza said suddenly, seeming to remember they were stood there.

Mr Schuyler turned to smile at them, and Herc held out his hand in greeting. He had the whole meet the parents routine down to an art by now. Sure, most of his friends had been muggle growing up, but he  was sure that you couldn’t go wrong with a politie few words and lots of  _ yes Sir, no Sir _ , no matter if the parent in question happened to be magical.

The handshake never came.

“Dad…?” Eliza asked after a moment, because Philip Schuyler had frozen halfway to Herc’s hand, wide eyes staring at Alex.  Herc had never met the man before, but even he could see the shock radiating out from him. A muscle twitched in Mr Schuyler’s jaw.

“Dad?” Eliza asked again. “What’s wrong?”

When he eventually spoke it was barely a whisper, a single word that somehow managed to carry disbelief and confusion and, unless Herc was sorely mistaken, not a small bit of fear.

“James?”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A levels? What A levels? *sweats nervously*

“Um, no?” Alex said, slightly bemused as he wondered who Eliza’s father could possibly have him confused with. James Madison, maybe, if he knew that Angelica was friends with him. “I’m Alexander.”

Mr Schuyler just stared at him.

“This is Alex that we told you about, remember?” Eliza prompted, sharing a confused look with her sister who merely shrugged. “Alex Hamilton?”

If anything, Mr Schuyler paled further, what was left of the blood draining away from his face. “Hamilton? But you... “ He trailed off, and suddenly turned turned to Eliza. “I have to speak to the headmaster.”

“But you’re not supposed to see Washington until twelve!” she protested. “We were going to show you around, and have breakfast, and I’m sure Angelica’s around somewhere, and-”

“Later, sweetheart,” he said. Mr Schuyler shot one last, fearful look in Alex’s direction before turning on his heel and hurrying away up the marble staircase. 

They stared after him.

“What was that about?” he eventually asked, confused.

“I’ve got no idea.” Eliza said, chewing her bottom lip. “He’s not normally like that. I don’t know…”

“Don’t look at me,” Peggy added. “He was fine this morning. I haven't managed to turn him into a complete nervous wreck in five months.”

“Maybe he’s just in a hurry to see Washington,” suggested Herc, ever the diplomat. “I mean, if that’s what he came all the way up here for….”

“Yeah maybe. But that was weird, right?” Alex said, before glancing at Eliza. “I mean, no offence, but…”

“No, that was totally weird,” she agreed, still staring in the direction her father had gone. “Why is it always something weird with you?”

Alex thought that was a little unfair. It was only her Dad. And the cloak. And the broomstick. And… He opened his mouth to retort, but Peggy beat him to it.

“What’s weird about you?” she asked, round eyes peering at him with interest.

“Everything. He’s a weird guy.” Herc replied quickly, earning a surprised smirk from the ten year old, and a grateful smile from Alex. He may be getting used to sharing his secrets, but that didn’t mean he wanted the whole world to know.

 

\--

 

“Herc, where the hell have you been? We’ve got news,” Laf said, the moment Herc climbed through the portrait hole into the Gryffindor common room.

“This isn’t the best time-”

“Well, we’ve got news and a huge-ass parcell with your name on it..” John added, appearing seeming from nowhere with an enormous box in tow.

“Well, aren’t you going to open it? It arrived in the dorm first thing this morning, I don’t know how the owl managed to carry it, but-”

“Seriously, guys, there are more important things going on right now.”

Laf cocked his head curiously. “Like what?”

“Well, Alex-” Herc began, before shutting his mouth abruptly. He didn’t know what had happened exactly this morning apart from the fact that Mr Schuyler had freaked the moment he saw Alex, but he was left with the distinct feeling that he had intruded on something important just by being there. Whatever was going on had nothing to do with him, and Alex and the girls should probably be the ones to tell the others, once they worked out what exactly it was they were telling them. “Never mind,” he said quickly. “What’s in the box?”

Laf grinned mischievously, and spun the box around to reveal the word Zonkos on the side. “I guess the owls have been trained to come to the dorms instead of the Great Hall. It’s genius. Come on, I want to see what we’ve got.”

And despite his worry for Alex, Herc found himself grinning back. He lept on the box, showing no respect for the packaging, and a moment later the three boys found themselves staring in silent awe at the treasure trove before them.

“Holy crap…” Laf whispered softly.

“I don’t even know what half of this stuff does,” John said, turning a pair of perfectly innocent looking dice over in his fingers. 

“Hopefully neither will Lee,” Herc said, and if it came out a little more vindictive than he’d meant, that was probably because he was remembering how the potions master had managed to make Sally Hemmings cry last week. “At least not until we hit him.”

“So what do we start with?” John asked eagerly. “Invisible ink? Voice changing drops? Dung-bombs?”

“Give them here,” Herc scowled, snatching the offending packet out of John’s hands. “You’ll set them off in here. And anyway, these are for Hugh, not for us. I had in mind something a little more… personal.”

He rummaged in the box for a moment, before drawing out the item he’d been looking for. It had been the last thing he’d added to his order, not particularly devious in its own right, but Herc had just the use for it. “There’s a quidditch match next week, unless I’m mistaken.”

The others frowned at him for a moment, before understanding dawned on their faces. “My friends,” Laf said wickedly. “We have some work to do.”

 

\--

 

The pocketwatch was tarnished where it had once shone a brilliant silver, and the casing covered in a hundred tiny dents and scratches, each one telling a tale of carelessness. While he probably could make more of an effort to polish it, at least Philip Schuyler knew he couldn’t be blamed for the rest of the damage. The watch had been in his family for countless generations, passed down through the generations once a son or daughter turned seventeen. His own father had pressed it into his hands on his own birthday, and it had lived on the end of a chain in his pocket ever since, through school days and sleepless nights and countless battles. It wouldn’t be long, Philip knew, before it would be time to hand it over to Angelica, and it would be her turn to carry the family pride instead. 

As much as the old watch had brought him luck over the years, it was also one of his few tells. An auror had to be carved from marble with a poker face to match any professional, so it was lucky that it was only those who really knew him knew that he fiddled with the watch when he was anxious; taking it out, checking the time, putting it back again, flicking the catch carelessly and tracing the back of his thumb over the dented material. There was little these days that could wind him up into such a state these days, but right now anxious didn’t even begin to cover it.

“How could you not tell me?” he demanded. “All this bloody time, and you never once thought that I’d have wanted  to know? That Cat would have wanted to know?”

George Washington’s face was utterly unreadable, and Philip could no better tell what was happening behind those sharp eyes than he’d been able to fifteen years ago when he’d first known the man. So far he’d not said a word other than to confirm the suspicion that had sent Philip running up here, away from his daughters, away from  _ that boy _ , and Washington had done little to stop him ranting as he paced a grove into his office floor. 

“You had no right to keep this from us!” He finished, cheeks flushed.

Washington laced his fingers together on the top of the desk. “I only found out myself shortly before the summer.”

“That’s still the best part of a year! This boy-”

“His name,” Washington said, and it was the first time in the conversation he could here an undercurrent of anger under the smooth voice, “Is Alexander.”

“Alexander.” Philip corrected himself. “I could have spoken to him, explained to him-”

“Explained what, exactly? He’s twelve years old, and he only found out that the magical world existed six months ago. Do you really think it would have been wise to burden the boy further? To send him to school with that knowledge hanging over his head?”

“I…” he couldn’t come up with a response to that. As much as he hated it, his old commander had a point. But all the same… “He deserves to know,” Phillip asserted. “You can’t keep him from the past forever.”

“You miss them.” It wasn’t a question, so he didn’t bother to deny it. He was far from a stranger to losing people, of course. The auror office leant itself to loss, and had he not had his daughters to cling to, Philip believed that Cat’s death would have broken him irrevocably. He was well accustomed to the feeling by now, but that never made it any easier, and the oldest wounds took the longest to heal.

“Of course I miss them. Rachel  was one of my best friends, and James-” his voice cracked painfully, and when he spoke again it was a whisper. “I just didn’t realise how much I missed them until Alexander walked into my girls’ lives. I mean, God, he looks…”

“He really does.” Washington smiled thinly. “Just like his father.”

  
\--

 

A hand flew out to grab her wrists as she walked down the corridor, and Angelica tore her hand away, ready of throw off her attacker.

Aaron jerked away and put his hands up in a defensive motion. “Woah, hey, it’s me. Relax.”

She stared at him for a moment, then relaxed, letting out a deep breath, and he eyed her with concern. “What’s got you wound up so tight?”

What indeed? The hours since she’d spent awake hidden in the back of the library’s restricted section? The book she’d been searching through, each page containing magic so horrible she would rather throw up than carry on reading? The single sentence that was about to destroy the life of one of her best friends? Take your pick. All she said to Aaron, however, was “Where’s Alex?”

“Alexander? In breakfast.. Look, I need your help. Me and Theo-”

She didn’t wait around to hear the rest, pushing past him in the direction of the great hall. “Hey, wait!” he yelled at her back, but Angelica didn’t turn around. There were far more important things at stake here than whatever problem Aaron and Theo needed solving.

Alex was sitting at the Hufflepuff table between Herc and Eliza, and Angelina realised she couldn’t remember when exactly they had given up on sticking to their own house tables. Fests and quidditch matches were different, or course, but for the most part her friends tended to sit in clumps anywhere that took their fancy. She paused in the doorway, allowing herself just a moment to regret what she was about to do. The three of them were laughing at something Herc had said, and she was about to bring the whole world crashing down around Alex’s head. For a moment, she considered it. Quietly slipping away, putting the book back on its shelf and never telling a soul what she knew. Alex would be happier for it, she was sure, but she was also sure that he would never forgive her if he found out she had lied to him. With a silent apology, Angelica took a deep breath and walked towards them.

Herc saw her first. “Where the hell have you been? Your we spent half of yesterday trying to find you, and I think Peggy may murder you in your sleep…”

“Never mind that,” Eliza jumped in. “Angie, dad was so weird, he was talking to Washington for hours, and-”

Angelica ignored both of them. She stopped in front of Alex and placed the book on the table in front of him. A small puff of dust flew up as it hit the wood, reminding her of just how deep she’d had to rummage in the restricted section to find the damn thing.

Alex blinked up at her. “What’s this?”

Angelica chewed the words around her mouth before spitting them out, trying not to wince at the aftertaste. “It’s records from the aurors office. I figured the Defence Against the Dark Arts department would have some tucked away somewhere, but… just read it, would you? The page I marked.”

Shooting her a somewhat mystified look, Alex did as she asked, flipping through the old pages with haste. Under normal circumstances she might have asked him to be a bit more careful - the parchment was as thin and delicate as cobwebs - but right now she couldn’t care less about what damage Alex might do to the book. She was far more concerned with the opposite.

Eventually he found the page in question, and scanned through it, frowning. “What am I supposed to be looking at? It’s just a list of names.”

With all eyes on her, Angelica, read aloud from over Alex’s shoulder, taking a small pride in the fact that her voice was perfectly steady. “The 20th August, 1972. Christiansted, St Croix. Cause: Unregistered climatic magic, exact incantations unknown. Transgressor: unknown. Casualties: Muggles: dozens, identities unknown. Magical persons: two.” She paused. “Rachel and James Hamilton.”

She felt, rather than saw Alex stiffen next to her, limbs tensing and back straightening. “Alex?” she asked, as gently as she could manage. 

“Faucette.” he said, barely a whisper. 

“What?”

“She went by Faucette, not Hamilton, I think.”

“That was your mum?” Eliza asked, and Alex nodded, confirming what Angelica had been fearing. “Jesus.”

“But this doesn’t make sense.” Alex pulled the book towards him, fingertips brushing softly over the parchment. “St Croix. I grew up in London. I never lived in St Croix. How could my Mum have been murdered there? Oh God, my mum was murdered.” He sat back, eyes impossibly far away.

“We’re gonna work this out, yeah,” Herc said, laying a reassuring hand on Alex’s shoulder. He jerked away from the touch as if burned.

“No! I mean… this is serious, guys. This isn’t just a magic cloak any more, this…” he glanced down at the offending page once more. “This shit is serious. I can’t ask you guys to get involved.”

“You don’t have to ask. We’re with you on this one.”

“And I’ve got a horrible feeling we’re already involved.” Eliza said slowly, meeting her sister’s eyes. “James Hamilton?”

“My Dad?” Alex shrugged, but Herc’s eyes grew wide in understanding. 

“Oh shit.” he muttered.

Angelica was pretty sure she was missing some piece of vital information here. “What’s going on?”

“I think,” Eliza said. “That we need to talk to our Dad.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick note on dates. I picked 1972 for the hurricane because that's 200 years after it actually happened. I realise that this puts this story squarely in the eighties, but hey, if it's good enough for JK...
> 
> Oh, and apologies to any history fans out there. Alex's is just the first of many backstories I will build with no more than a passing regard to historical accuracies.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the radio silence! A combination of mock exams and a minor mental breakdown have knocked me sideways for the last few weeks, so thanks for the patience. Hopefully updates will be a bit more regular from here on out *touches wood*
> 
> Oh, and have a look out for changes to the tags over the next few days. I finally got round to working out the final plot details, so just be aware the direction the story is heading. Heading very slowly, mind, but you know how we do.

_ Outside the small window, the sound of the sea came drifting across the evening air. He’d known the sea his whole, life, the sea was his friend, and for as long as he could remember it had been there, keeping watch as he slept. Not always the same sea, of course. Sometimes it washed up on yellow sands and sometimes it crashed against the rocks, and sometimes it was alive with a rainbow of fish, but it was always there, wherever they went. _

_ But never had he heard it so angry before. He didn’t like it angry. Angry was Mummy when they broke something, or that scary woman who sometimes came around and shouted. He whimpered softly, wrapped himself tighter inside his blankets, and wished for the sea to be happy again. _

_ It didn’t listen. _

 

“Alexander!”

Alex jerked awake with a start, fingers reflexively tightening around his sheets. The world slowly swum into view, the dark canvas above him, the heavy curtains hanging around his bed, and the concerned face of Aaron Burr.

“What?” he murmured sleepily.

“Are you okay? It sounded like you were having a nightmare.”   
Alex frowned, trying to recall the dream, even as it slipped through his fingers. A flash of heat, vague shadows maybe, but everything else had vanished upon waking.  _ Dammit _ . “No idea.” He glanced at the fluorescent green hands of his watch, and cursed. It was half past five in the morning, and there was no point trying to get back to sleep now, not with the tingling feeling that he was missing something important. “Crap, sorry, did I wake you?”

“No, I was already up.” Aaron smiled ruefully, and now that Alex looked, he could see the shadows under his friend’s eyes, even through the gloam of their dormroom.

“What’s up?”

Aaron hesitated, glancing around at the other beds in the room, in which the rest of their dorm were still snoring, and Alex sighed. “Sit down,” he offered with a jerk of his head, and Aaron gratefully crawled onto his bed, drawing the forest green curtains closed behind him. 

Alex refrained from commenting on how his pajamas clashed horribly with their Slytherin bedsheets. He had made every version of that joke he could come up with when Aaron first pulled them out of his trunk, a silky emerald shirt and trousers with AB stitched neatly across the pocket. Who had monogrammed pajamas, for Christ’s sake, and in such perfect house colours? The tips of Aaron’s ears had darkened has he muttered something about them being a present from his uncle, and Alex thought with some amusement it was the closest he’d ever seen his friend to embarrassed.

Of course, Alex’s own pajamas, a size too small, weren’t much better, he supposed as they settled onto his bed, the two boys sitting cross legged opposite each other. It was a familiar position, one they’d adopted many times over the year, when they wanted to talk with some illusion of privacy, or just get a break from the rest of their dorm. Alex rummaged around in his bedside draw for a moment, before extracting a half-melted bar of chocolate in triumph, and pressing it into Aaron’s hands.

“Spill.” he instructed. “What’s up?”

Aaron broke of a small square, and stared at his hands before answering. “Theo. I think she hates me.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Alex replied automatically, because really it was. The two of them were as close as anyone. 

“It really isn’t. There was this whole thing with Seabury, and I didn’t handle it very well.”

“So apologise.”

“I’ve tried. She won’t even talk to me.”

Alex sat back a little, stunned. What with everything that he’d been trying to process in the last week, he hadn’t even noticed that two of his best friends weren’t speaking. Suddenly guilty, he offered a tentative smile instead.

“She’ll come around. And if you feel like kicking Seabury’s ass in the meantime, I’m more than happy to help.” While Alex didn’t know the fifth year personally, the way that Samuel Seabury strutted around the common room as if he owned it was enough for him to instantly dislike him. And if he had been mean to Theo, well, he’d want a few choice words with anyone who thought that was a remotely okay thing to do .

“As fun as kicking his ass sounds,” said Aaron with a sniff, “That’s really not something I can afford to do, what with my uncle and everything-”

“Not something you can afford to do?” Alex repeated, incredulous. For all that Aaron was his best friend, he sometimes wasn’t sure he would ever understand him. “Theo’s your friend, Burr, and I know you miss her. You need to work out if that’s more important than whatever your uncle might have to say about it.”

Aaron smiled, although the expression didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yeah, maybe. Jeez, I’m sorry, you don’t want to be dealing with this now. You have bigger things to worry about.”   
“Course I do. Just wish I had your nice, normal problems.”

“So I take it the girls couldn’t get anything out of their father?”

“Not a word.” he paused, eyes firmly in his lap. “It’s funny, you know? I used to wish that something interesting would happen to me, and suddenly I’m learning magic in a castle and someone murdered my parents. This kind of shit doesn't happen to normal people.”

“Since when have you been normal?”

And that, Alex thought with a twinge, might just be the crux of the whole damn thing. Still, he plastered a grin across his face. “Who’d ever want to be normal?”

Aaron didn’t reply, but he did finally nibble on a corner of chocolate. And the two of them sat in companionable  silence until the sun peaked over the castle roof.

 

\--

 

The flames in the fireplace had long since died, leaving nothing more than a dimly smouldering stack of logs and ash. Herc prodded at the lumps half-heartedly with an old iron poker, wide awake despite the lateness of the hour, and was just about to glance at the clock on the far wall for the tenth time in as many minutes when the sixth-year card game in one corner came to an end. He watched the older students pack up and climb the stairs up to the dormitories with a series of yawns, and goodnights, and more than one curious glance at the three of them still up so late. Herc just held their gaze with a smirk. If they pulled this off, Gryffindor would know exactly what they had been doing up so late. If not… well, it was better not to think about that part.

“You guys ready?” John asked, his voice a mere whisper despite the fact that they were now the only ones in the common room. 

“I don’t know.” said Laf. “Will we all fit?”

John shuffled slightly in his chair, retrieving the lump of fabric he’d been sitting on for the past four hours, and three pairs of eyes watched as the invisibility cloak unfurled. Herc still couldn’t tell what colour the fabric was exactly, and the way the light from the dying light seemed to glance off it at odd angles didn’t help.

“We should be. It’s made for an adult, after all.”

They did all fit under the cloak, as it turned out, but only just. They had to bunch tightly together to avoid their ankles being seen, and Herc had no idea whose elbow was jammed into his ribs, aside from the fact he could probably rule out it being his own. “This is ridiculous,” he complained. 

“Have you got a better idea on how to get all the way down to the hall?”

He didn’t. And, much as Herc was loath to admit it, Laf had a point. It wasn’t exactly a comfortable way to get around the school, but they managed to make it through the entire castle without incident. As they approached the Great Hall, John put an unnecessary finger to his lips, to silence any potential conversation. 

With one last furtive glance around, John pulled the invisibility cloak off their shoulders, passing the fabric to Laf who draped it more securely around himself. For a moment, Laf’s disembodied head floated in front of them, and it would have been terrifying if not for the goofy grin plastered across his face. Even with the smile, the sight was somewhat unnerving in the darkness. Then the french boy pulled the hood over his face and disappeared from sight altogether. The only clue that he was still there was the faint tapping of his footsteps as he climbed up the marble staircase to keep a lookout. Herc spared a moment to marvel at how effective the cloak really was, and wonder who would want to send such a thing to Alex, before turning back to the task at hand. They had far more pressing matters to deal with right now.

“You’re sure about this?” John asked apprehensively

“Hey, it was your plan! Lee always comes down to breakfast earlier than anyone else, so he’ll be the first through the doors tomorrow morning, and-”

“Not the plan, idiot! The plan’s fine. Are you sure you can get me up there?”

The two boys craned their necks to look at the stone arch over the doorway to the great hall. It had to be a good twelve feet above them. “Sure,” Herc said confidently. “I nailed Wingardium Leviosa months ago,”

“Yeah, with feathers.”

“Well I’m sure as hell not letting you float me.”

John looked like he wanted to argue that point, before clearly thinking better of it. Hey, it wasn’t Herc’s fault that John’s attempts at flying charms still had the tendency to make his target fly around the room with the trajectory of an untied balloon. 

“Fine,” he said eventually, pulling a small pouch out of his pockets and checking the contents. “Let’s get this over with.”

Herc aimed his wand at John, pretending not to notice how his friend tensed, and whispered “Wingardium Leviosa,”

Had he not been concentrating so hard, he might have laughed at the look on John’s face, halfway between terror and amazement as he floated away from the stone floor. But in truth it took a lot of effort to keep something this heavy and this, well, wriggly, stable in midair for any length of time, and Herc grit his teeth as John reached the top of the doorway.

“Hurry up, Laurens,” he hissed.

“I’m trying, alright!”

Herc couldn’t see exactly what John was doing, but they had done a trial run earlier that week on a freshly transfigured mouse they’d liberated from the Doc’s classroom, so he could imagine well enough. High above, John was sticking what looked like tiny scarlet limpets to the stone, carefull not to break the shells as he did so. This was the most delicate part of the operation, and the reason they couldn’t just float them up one by one instead of levitating John himself. If everything went to plan, the only person breaking them open would be Professor Lee when he opened the door to the Great Hall tomorrow morning.

“Done!” John called down, and not a moment too soon because Herc could feel beads of sweat beginning to break across his brow with the effort of keeping him in the air. The way he saw it, magic was a muscle like any other; it had it’s limits, and trying to do too much too fast without proper training took a lot out of you. Not that it was likely to follow anything as logical as a rule like that, of course, but Herc had long since learnt to try and stop making sense of the small details of the magical world. 

He lowered John to the ground, perhaps a bit faster than his friend would have liked, but he got down in one piece so John really couldn’t complain. “We set?” Herc asked, trying and failing to see the shells sticking precariously above their heads. 

“Should be. Guess we’ll find out.”

  
  


\--

 

Angelica had to hand it to them. The three boys, for all the time they spent acting like total idiots could actually be geniuses when they put their mind to something. She hid her grin behind a pastry, only rolling her eyes disapprovingly when Hercules glanced her way, but she knew she wouldn’t be able to keep up the act long.

The whole Hall was bustling with nervous energy whispered conversations and hushed laughter replacing the usual breakfast murmurs, and no one was in any doubt as to why.

It had been three days. 

And Professor Lee’s hair was still bright red.

Scratch that, it wasn’t just his hair. It was his eyebrows too, and artificial freckles standing out like pinpricks against his pale skin, all a brilliant, bold scarlet. 

She had no idea how the three of them had pulled it off. That it had been Hercules, John, and Lafayette, she had no doubt. Between the smugness her friends had been radiating all week, and the poorly disguised looks of awe the rest of Gryffindor was sending her way, she was amazed they hadn’t been dragged in front of their head of house yet. 

“But what can they prove?” Lafayette had replied airily when she’d managed to corner him on the first morning a scowling Lee had been spotted with his new hairstyle. 

A more generous soul than her might have felt sorry for the potions master as swept around school looking permanently ready to duel someone (Which was to say Eliza was taking pity on him), but Angelica could only think that a little humiliation was just what he needed after terms  of bullying his students. And just to add insult to injury, it was the most anticipated Quidditch match of the season this weekend. Lee was almost fanatical about house pride, that was no secret, and he’d have to watch his beloved Slytherin play Gryffindor in bright scarlet. 

_ Idiotic geniuses _ , she thought again.

“Your Dad was in the prophet again,” James Madison said from across the table, snapping out of her gleeful thoughts. “You didn’t tell me he was going to Albania,”

“I didn’t know,” Angelica replied, voice slightly flattening. “He’s taking all these cases abroad at the moment, we usually don’t know he’s going until he’s gone.”

“But that’s so cool, though,” he pressed on obliviously. “Your Dad’s this action hero, going around catching criminals and redcoats and- hey does he get any downtime in Albania? Because there’s this shrine I read about in Tirana that was built in biblical times, and…”

She shrugged non-committedly, letting James’ words wash over her. Angelica wished she could share his enthusiasm, she really did. But she couldn’t shake the feeling that her father was running away from the questions he wouldn’t answer in the most literal way, all the way across Europe, in fact. It was hard to see Philip Schuyler as a hero when she was sure he was fleeing his own daughters. 

The pastry didn’t taste quite as good now, nor the amusement in the hall feel quite so infectious. Angelica sighed quietly to herself, looked up at the staff table, and froze. Because Professor Lee’s face was no longer one of furious humiliation, as they had become accustomed to seeing over the last week, Instead, it was twisted into a snarl that she could only think to describe as victorious. She followed his gaze, and felt something cold settle in her stomach. It must have shown, because James stopped mid sentence to cock his head to one side.

“Hey, Angelica, you alright?”

_ No _ , she thought. Because Professor Lee wasn’t looking at the Gryffindor table. His gaze was fixed firmly on the pupils of his own house. Well, one pupil in particular, hair curling over her oblivious shoulders.

  
  


\--

 

Theo couldn’t shake the feeling she was being watched. It had been there all morning, a niggling itch at the base of her skull that left her glancing over her tense shoulders as she walked to lessons. She did her best to ignore it, it was probably paranoia anyway, but she couldn’t help feeling twitchy and on edge.

“What’s wrong?” Aaron asked as they left the great hall to go to charms.

“Nothing.” She replied automatically, pulling her bag up a little higher on her shoulders and marching ahead. It wasn’t as if the two of them weren’t speaking any more - Alex had put his foot down and demanded they at least be civil to each other or he’d be forced to commit a double homicide - but that didn’t change the fact she was still unbelievably pissed at him.

Maybe it was unfair. There was no way he could understand what it was like, after all, feeling like an outsider every time you walked into the common room that was supposed to be your home, but she honestly couldn’t bring herself to care. He was being a dick about the whole thing, and until such a time that Aaron chose to pull his head out of his arse and apologise, she reserved the right to be angry.

She was so caught up in her thoughts that she didn’t notice the leg sticking casually out into the corridor. At least not until she tripped over it. She landed on the floor in an undignified heap, sending books and parchment flying out of her bag all over the corridor. Bloody brilliant, she thought, gathering them up with a burning face, and stood only to be met with the sound of laughter.

“Watch where you’re going, firstie.” Seabury smirked, pushing himself off from the wall. She knew his friends by sight if not name, all of them in emerald ties and all much taller than her. “Wouldn’t want you to have an accident.”

“Can I help you?” she asked carefully.

“As a matter of fact you can. You see, we have a little problem. Thanks to a little mishap with Professor Lee, Slytherin house is the laughing stock of the school, and we don’t take too kindly to being laughed at. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?”

The Gryffindor boys, she thought desperately. Just how Seabury and his friends knew how she would know who had pranked Lee was beyond her, but she supposed it didn’t matter. No way in hell was she selling her friends out.

“Can’t say that I do. So sorry to disappoint.” She made to push past them, but Seabury blocked her way.

“Hey, where are you going? We’re just talking here.”

“Come on, let me through.”

“I was right though, wasn’t I? I said you had no business in being a Slytherin. Though I suppose you couldn't be satisfied with subtly ruining our reputation. You had to go and drag it through the dirt.”

“Wait, what?” She frowned, more confused than afraid all of a sudden. “You think I did that to Lee? And just to pull on over on you idiots? Wow, you must be stupider than I thought.”

“Again with the disrespect, Prevost,” Seabury shook his head softly, walking towards her, and Theo couldn’t help the involuntary stumble back. “I think it’s high time we showed you your place, mudblood.”

Theo took another step backwards, eyes darting around for options. Inside her pocket, her hand closed around the hilt of her wand, but before she could call it, a voice called out “Samuel, that’s enough!”

The fifth year looked around in surprise, and as his friends parted, Theo was amazed to see Aaron standing in the corridor. The others towered over him, but if he was afraid he was doing a good job of hiding it.

“This isn’t anything to do with you.”

“Actually, it is.” Aaron swallowed. “She’s my friend, you see, and I’d very much appreciate it if you backed off.”

Seabury laughed. “You’re joking, right? Come on, Burr, You know she doesn’t belong here.”

Aaron tensed, and for a moment, Theo was sure that he was going to agree and walk away. Instead, he just stared at Seabury evenly. “And you know I’m not someone you want to get on the wrong side of. That I can make things difficult for you.”

The two boys glared at eachother, and Theo was dangerously close to just hexing Seabury herself and dealing with the consequences when the fifth year smirked. “Whatever. Have fun with your little muggle friend, Burr. And don’t think that your uncle won’t be hearing about this.”

“Go ahead an tell him.” And if Theo didn’t know Aaron so well, she might have missed the way his shoulders stiffened slightly, the slight crack in his voice that betrayed his casual tone. Fortunately, Seabury and his flock didn’t know him as well, and so pushed past them without another word. She waited until they had rounded the corner before letting out a deep breath, and leaning back against the wall.

“Jesus…”

“Are you okay? They didn’t hurt you, did they? Because if they did-”

“They didn’t touch me,” she promised, because she wasn’t sure what was scaring her more right now: the fact that Aaron seemed to be on the verge of hyperventilating, so at odds with the smooth, assured boy who had stood there just seconds before, or the glint in his eye that promised Seabury wouldn't see him coming if he’d hurt Theo. “See, I’m fine. He’s all talk anyway, the asshole. You know he thought I was the one that turned Lee into Jonny Storm for some damn reason.”

“Who?” Aaron blinked, and she vowed yet again to introduce her friends to some real pop culture when she had the time. “Whatever. They got it from Lee, okay? Angelica just told me he was shooting daggers at your back the whole way through breakfast, I bet he tipped them off-”

"-And they thought they'd do him a favour and bag themselves a traitor?" she finished.

He nodded apologetically.

Theo swore. Loudly. And at length. No matter what certain teachers may think, she did usually make an effort to reign in her language. But, hey, her whole house had it in for her, her head of house was actually encouraging racist assholes to threaten her, and she had just been saved by the best friend she was supposed to hate right now. Theo was more than entitled to a bit of a swear, she decided.

Aaron just watched her with a single raised eyebrow. Eventually, when she paused for breath, he asked “You done?”

“Not even close. What the hell was that? Why’d you stick your neck out for me?”

“Because… because you’re my friend.” He paused. “And Seabury really is an asshole.”

Despite herself, Theo smiled. “And is he really gonna tell your uncle?”

“Probably. But it was bound to happen sooner or later. I’m amazed Alexander hasn’t dragged me into something to warrant his attention yet to be honest.”

“It’s only a matter of time.”

“That’s what I’m worried about.” Aaron glanced up at her, almost nervously. “Are we good? It’s been brought to my attention I’ve been acting…”

“Like a dick?” she supplied.

“Yeah, that.”

“Yeah, why not. We’re good.” Theo was sure she hadn’t imagined the look of relief that flashed across Aaron’s face, if only because she felt something similar unfurl in her own stomach. “On one condition.”

“What?”

“I get to tell Alex about you going all Liam Neeson back there. ‘I can make things very difficult for you?’  _ Wow _ .”

“No, you may not tell Alexander. You may reserve the right to mock me relevantly in private., however” he countered.

“Done.”

They walked back down the corridor together, Theo belatedly realising they were heading back towards the dungeons instead of her charms class. Well, she supposed they would have been late anyway.


	8. Chapter 8

A week. That was how long the reprise lasted, a week during which Aaron couldn’t be entirely sure he hadn’t walked into some strange sort of parallel universe. Not only were the sixth years giving him a suspiciously wide berth, but all his friends kept shooting him smiles. He guessed that Alexander had told them what happened (he’d only found out himself after relentlessly demanding the details for a whole evening) and he was starting to wish they’d go back to treating him like a casual acquaintance. It was more than a tad disquieting. 

“I mean, don’t get me wrong, Burr,” Lafayette said as the group walked down to the Quidditch match together, all decked out in their respective house colours. “You’re still the worst.”

“Thanks.”

“But that was a cool thing you did. For our dearest Theodosia.”

Aaron paused for a moment, and jerked his head. The French boy understood instantly (at least some of his friends were at all perceptive) and dropped back a few a steps, out of earshot of the rest. “Can you all just drop it?” he asked. “I didn’t do anything a decent friend wouldn’t have done weeks ago. And let’s face it, Theo’s the least in need of defending of anyone I know.”

Lafayette smiled ruefully. “That is true. Not to mention terrifying.”

“Slightly? You know she offered to introduce me to death metal? What the hell is death metal?”

“I don’t know. And I’m not sure I want to.” Lafayette’s eyes were wide. 

The noise from the stadium grew louder, and they could faintly hear the echoing voice of the opening announcements over the springtime air. They increased their pace, hurrying down the winding path with the last few stragglers. 

“But seriously,” Lafayette said. “That was brave. What with your uncle and everything.”

Aaron stared at him for a moment, wondering how on earth he knew, before realising this boy shared a room with John Laurens. As hellish as he could imagine that was, it was no surprise that Laurens had filled him in on the finer points of his family life.

“It’s nothing I can’t handle.”

Lafayette didn’t look like he believed him for a moment, but at that moment they had reached the rickety wooden staircase that would take him up to Gryffindor stands, and a roar from high above them suggested the match was about to start. The French boy cursed and raced away, leaving Aaron to hurry to his own stand on the other side of the pitch. The match was in full swing by the time he finally found his seat next to Alexander, and Slytherin already twenty points up.

“Where the hell have you been?”

“Got held up. What did I miss?”

“Nothing much. Unless you count Gates fumbling the Snitch right in front of his nose. Honestly, he’s useless.”

“So try out next year,” he replied distractedly. Had Aaron not still been turning the conversation with Lafayette over in his head, he might have noticed how Alexander had fallen uncharacteristically silent, and searched for somewhere to duck and cover as a spark light behind his eyes. 

He’d told the French boy he could handle things, and Aaron was tentatively starting to believe he might be right. A whole week had gone by without consequence from Seabury, Lee, or even his uncle, after all, and maybe, just maybe, it was all going to be okay.

And then the letter came.

In retrospect, he supposed he should be glad that at least it wasn’t a howler. Although that would hardly have been his uncle’s style. Aaron didn’t think he’d ever heard Timothy Edwards raise his voice, not once in the five years he’d been living with him. And more to the point, the whole problem was a matter of reputation anyway. That wasn’t something that could be fixed by sharing his thoughts for the whole school tp see over breakfast.

He recognised the bird immediately of course, and tried not to wince as Mars landed between the racks of toast.

"Isn't that your owl?" Theo asked, frowning slightly.

Aaron nodded, idly petting his dark feathers as Mars helped himself to his bacon and eggs. Dammed bloody animal.

"Well?" she prompted. 

The lie was out of his mouth almost immediately, the words as easy as breathing. Perhaps that should worry him, but right now he had more important things to worry about. Self-deprecation could wait. “My Aunt had a healers appointment. She's probably just letting me know how it went."

It wasn’t until after two lessons that Aaron had a chance to get away and open it. The letter had been a heavy weight in his pocket the whole morning, distracting him so much that the Doc had asked him twice if he was getting enough sleep. He was well aware that he was being childish, just as he was well aware that sitting on his bed with his knees up to his chin staring at an envelope wasn’t particularly dignified, yet Aaron couldn’t bring himself to move.

He took a deep breath, willing his treacherous heart to go back to a normal pace, and opened the letter.

\--

 

“Not a hope in hell.” Eliza said without even looking up from her book.. 

She heard, rather than saw Alex flop onto the stair next to to her. They’d found this place weeks ago, a staircase around the back to the defense against the dark arts corridor and simply ended twelve steps up at an empty wall. John and Laf had spent an afternoon pressing random bricks in the hope of finding a secret passage before giving it up as a bad job, and she and Alex had appropriated it since as a corner of quiet away from the chaos of the school.

“Come on, ‘Liza,” he wined. “It’ll be fun.”

“It’ll be horrible.” 

“You don’t know that.”

“Well, let’s see.” She carefully folded down her page and regarded him evenly. “Last time I got on a broom with you, we both nearly died, and we both nearly got kicked out. And now you want me to break the school rules again to give you lessons?”

Alex smiled innocently. “That’s right.”

“Nope.”

“Why not? I’ll do your potions homework for a week! I’ll carry your books! Come on, I need your help here! Slytherin could be amazing next year, we could actually win, but we need a seeker  who know’s what they’re doing!”

He had to be joking. “Alex, even if you weren’t trying to persuade me to help you beat my house, that person isn't . I’m sure you’d be an amazing seeker, but you can’t even ride a broom.”

“That’s where you come in. How hard can it be? Once I get a broom that isn’t trying to kill me-” she rolled her eyes, they’d had the same argument about his supposedly cursed broom a hundred times, “- I just need a few pointers on how to, you, know…”

“Not die?”

“Yeah, that!”

Eliza sighed. As much as the idea of getting on a broom again twisted uncomfortably in her stomach, it might be nice to know Alex wasn’t going to kill himself trying to play a sport he had no experience in. And it occurred to her that once Alexander Hamilton got an idea into his head, there was little hope of stopping him, and the idiot might just go ahead and try to teach himself how to fly without her help. 

Dammit. 

“You can do my potions homework for _two_ weeks. And if you knock yourself out, I’m not lying to John about how it happened. And I'm not stopping him beating you to death with the handle of your own broomstick.”

"But you'll do it?"

Merlin save her. "I'll do it."

Alex beamed, and jumped to his feet.  “This is going to be brilliant! Eliza Schuyler, you are the best. The _best!”_ He sat down again, but she could feel him practically vibrating with excitement and anticipation.

“I know.”

A moment of silence. And then, “Hey, how easy do reckon it would be to break into the broom shed?”

Oh God, Eliza was really going to regret this. “Nope. You’re not dragging me into your life of crime. You’ve got John about that.”

“Why not? You could be my evil sidekick, ride around in the sidecar of my motorbike, rob banks and stuff.”

“I’m pretty sure you’d be be Eliza’s sidekick,” a voice chimed in, and they looked up to see Angelica walking towards them, a strange sort of smile on her face.

“Yeah, probably,” Alex agreed, shooting Eliza a conspiratorial wink that Angelica looked like she was purposely trying to ignore, and Eliza couldn’t blame her. You didn’t grow up with Peggy without being able to spot in an instant when someone was up to something, and when to just pretend you had no clue.

“What’s up?” she asked.

“Got a letter from Dad about the holidays.”

“Let me guess?” Eliza sighed. “He’s going to be chasing redcoats across the continent?”

“Not exactly. He was writing to make sure we’re coming home over easter.” She paused. “And he’s invited Alex over as well.”

Alex blinked. “Me? Why?”

She shrugged. “It could be nothing. I mean, I think Peggy likes you, and I might have mentioned you were stuck at home over christmas, but…”

“But you think it’s because he was all weird when he met Alex.” Eliza finished slowly.

“I mean, it’s got to be, right?” Angelica pulled at the cuff of her robes. “You don’t have to come, if it’s too weird.” She offered. “We can tell him that you’ve got too much work to do, or you made arrangements to go and visit some batty great-aunt, or-”

“I want to come,” Alex said, a far away look in his eyes, one that Eliza knew from experience meant the cogs of his brain were turning at full speed. “It’ll be cool to see Peggy. And anyway, we’ve spent this whole damn year trying to work out what the hell’s going on. Maybe your dad can tell us.”

Eliza wasn’t convinced. Or maybe it was just that she knew her father could help them, and she was afraid what it might mean for the perfect family life they’d managed to build, just the four of them. Out loud, she only said “Brilliant!”

And if Angelica could see through her plastered smile in an instant, she didn’t call her up on it.

  
\--

 

“So are you gonna bring me back something French?” Herc asked with a grin as they walked down to supper that night. Lafayette just rolled his eyes.

“Are you going to bring me back something Irish?”

“I already brought you an entire Zonkos catalogue.”

“Technically _I_ brought you the Zonkos catalogue.”

“Yeah, but it was my idea.”

Laf smirked as they sat down at the Gryffindor table, and was unsurprised to see that they were primarily surrounded by non-Gryffindors.  If the older students had ever cared about the strange group of first years who seemed not to care about such trivial things as houses, they were long past the point of trying to stop them. At most they simply shot weird looks across the dining room, before getting back to the far more important issue of trying to copy down last minute homework. 

“What are you girls talking about?” Theo asked.

“Holidays.” Hercules smiled. “Turns out Laf’s family want him back after all.”

“Shut up. You’re just jealous I get to go to all the fancy parties.”

“Let’s face it, you’re both just jealous that  _ I’m _ going caravaning.”

Laf was so focused on being educated on just what muggle caravaning was exactly (and he had to say he was horrified at the idea) that he almost missed the conversation between Alex and Burr across the table.

“Looks like it’s team Slytherin staying here over easter.” Burr commented lightly, the first thing he’d said all evening. Laf would have thought he was being strangely quiet, if not for the fact that the boy was quiet by nature.

“Oh, crap, I didn’t tell you? I’m going home with the Schuylers. You don’t need to stay with me after all!”

Burr’s hand slipped, his spoon clattering to the tabletop. “What?”

“Yeah, Angelica got an owl yesterday. I mean, don’t get me wrong,  you offering to stay over Easter was awesome, but this way we both get to get out of here for a couple of weeks. Great, right?”

“Yes.” There's something in Burr’s voice, gone too quickly for Laf to name it, a strange vulnerability that's gone so quickly that  he's sure he must have just imagined it. 

“Great.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's short. I know. I'm sorry.
> 
> And to clear up any confusion, "Redcoats" are my equivalent of death eaters and ex-deatheaters and dark wizards in general because I'm far too lazy to come up with anything cleverer. Think swooshing crimson cloaks, you get the idea.


	9. not an update sorry :(

I'm really sorry to anyone who came here looking for an update, and everyone who's been so patient with me and this fic. Just thought you all deserved a quick explanation as to why there haven't been any new chapters lately.

To cut a long story short, I got my mock A level results back a couple of weeks ago (last year of school exams for all you non-Brits!) , and I'm way off course for where I need to be if I want to get into my first choice of university. Aside from a little breakdown about the whole thing, I've decided to put my writing (not just this fic but everything I'm working on at the moment) on hold until the summer, when I can write without having a panic that I'm screwing up my life.

I love this story far too much to abandon, especially as I have quite a bit of the later stages already written, and I may start posting the Star Trek AU I've been working on (of which about 20k has been written) to tide myself over. I just can't afford to give it the time it needs to be anything other than garbage right now.

Sorry again, and if you've stuck with this mess of a story up until now I love you so much. 

Jess x


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I said the summer... I'm sorry...  
> Three A-levels, nine cities, two frantic calls to universities and an actual offer later and I'm back on this story. Sorry for the hiatus, and thanks to anyone still here. Love you guys.

The Schuyler’s house was not what Alex had been expecting. True, he’d be hard pressed to tell you what it was he had been expecting exactly. Angelica and Eliza seemed pretty normal (considering they could turn his eyebrows blue and send objects flying around the room, that was), but who knew how magical families lived? By the time the Hogwarts express pulled into London, Alex was half expecting them to live in some magical gingerbread house in the middle of a forest. But hey, as long as he avoided suspicious looking old ladies hovering around ovens, he’d be fine.

That wasn’t a totally unrealistic worry, he reasoned, considering the way that Mr Schuyler had reacted last time they’d ben in the same room. The man had called him James, run away, then spent the next few months all but ignoring his daughters, and Alex was still trying to convince himself that that wasn’t his fault. So yeah, being eaten alive by his friends’ father? It wasn’t out of the question.

He could barely hide his surprise, then, when they walked out of King’s Cross to be met with the excited honking of a car horn. 

“Oh God…” Angelica mumbled, and Alex followed her gaze to see a perfectly normal car parked by the side of the road, Mr Schuyler leaning out of the drivers window and beeping at them. It was… mundane, almost, like any other muggle father picking his children up from school in beat up mini. 

“Hi, girls!” Mr Schuyler grinned, climbing out the car as they crossed the road. “Everything okay with the train? I hope you didn’t eat too much from the trolley, because your sister’s making cupcakes, and I won’t be held responsible for the consequences if you don’t eat at least three of them each.”

“Peggy’s cooking?” Eliza asked with a degree of trepidation.

“Don’t worry,” Mr Schuyler smiled. “I left the sprinklers on standby.”

Alex hung back as the conversation went on, standing an awkward half step behind his friends. He wanted to let the girls catch up with their Dad, he told himself firmly. It definitely wasn’t because he was irrationally terrified of being hexed in the middle of a London street, no sir. It wasn’t until they went to pack the trunks in the back of the car (which was far bigger than any ordinary mini boot, Alex was sure) that Mr Schuyler turned to look at him.

The man stilled for a second, and Alex briefly wondered if they were about to see a repeat of the Great Hall. But Mr Schuyler only shook his head after a moment and smiled. “Alexander, glad you could make it. I know Peggy’s dying to see you. Wait, you go by Alex, right?”

“Yes, sir,” Alex blinked, momentarily taken aback by the sheer normalness of the situation. “I mean…. Either is fine, most people call me Alex, but-”

“Alex it is then. Climb in all of you, why don’t you? I’m afraid it’s a bit of a drive, Alex, but that’s Hogwarts for you. Train runs into London as if people couldn’t possibly live anywhere else…”

Mr Schuyler kept up conversations of that sort the whole way out of London, asking about lessons and teachers, and nothing that would hint at the weirdness that had surrounded their first meeting. Alex exchanged mystified looks with both sisters, who seemed equally nonplussed. He couldn’t make any sense of the whole thing, but as they made their way out of the city, his confusion slowly gave way to fatigue. It had been a long train journey, and as the grey blurred into green outside the window, his eyes began to slip closed.

The next thing he knew, Eliza was shaking him awake. “Hey, Alex. Alex!”

“Wassgoin’on?” he slurred sleepily, and she laughed.

“We’re here, Sleeping Beauty.”

Somewhere in the time he’d been asleep, the sky had faded from bright blue to an indigo that suggested night was fast approaching. The brick house they were parked in front of was no less impressive in the half light, however. Red brick, with neat rows of white clad windows, and a grand front door flanked by a porch and steps. The sound of steady traffic rumbled somewhere nearby, yet when Alex glanced around, he could see nothing but an empty country lane. He shrugged, decided it was nothing more than the remnant from some fading dream and climbed out of the door.

“Did you sleep well?” Mr Schuyler asked.

“Sorry, Sir,” Alex said, suddenly embarrassed. “It’s… I… in cars, I tend to fall asleep, I-”

“That’s quite alright,” he replied, smiling warmly although Alex had no idea what he’d done to deserve it. “Why don’t you come inside and get settled?”

“I… sure. Thanks.”

The entrance of the Schuyler house was very grand, Alex was sure. High ceilings and smiling portraits that lined the walls. All of this, however, he registered only faintly. His immediate attention, upon stepping through the door, was rather taken by the high pitched blur of energy. 

“You came!” Peggy shrieked, launching herself forward, and it was all Alex could do to catch the kid in surprise, and try to stop them both toppling onto the floor. 

“Yeah, course I came,” he replied with a grin. “You really think I was gonna miss out on your cupcakes?”

If anything, her grin stretched even wider. Peggy grabbed his hand and dragged a protesting Alex into the house. It was an oddly familiar motion, in the same way that Angelica would tweak his tie or Eliza toss him a smirk without thinking about it, as if he had known her just as long as her sisters. Only later, would Alex reflect on how if didn’t feel odd in the slightest. It was insane, he would decide, insane the side that this family brought out in him. The feeling that maybe, just maybe, he fit.

Alex was too busy laughing to notice the look on Philip Schuyler’s face as they disappeared, one of faint amusement that masked something else altogether. He stood in the doorway, thumb idly tracing the back of his his pocket-watch as he watched them go. 

Insane, Alex would think to himself later that night.

Insane, Philip might agree.

\--

 

Aaron stared at the door, and decided that he’d always hated it. Locked doors in general had always anoyed him, the idea that something was happening in the room beyond that he wasn’t privy to. As a small child, he would sneak into his father’s study and sit in the space under the desk for hours. Sometimes, he’d been allowed to stay there and listen to his father’s quill scratching away at the parchment, and twice he’d managed to stay unnoticed for the duration of a meeting. Not that he’d understood a word that was said, of course, but he remembered the warm feeling of importance it had entailed, the sheer rush of joy at peeking into his father’s world.

Of course, the memories were faint at best. He wasn’t even sure they were all real. And the idea of sneaking through  this door was unthinkable. That had been one of the first rules, delivered in monotone by a politician who had no real clue what to do with a three year old who wouldn’t stop asking for his mother.

No running, no shouting, and no going into the study.

Aaron wasn’t there any more, he reminded himself firmly, yet he found himself glaring at the polished wood for an entirely different reason. 

“Master asked to see you as soon as you returned,” Posey had said the moment he’d walked into the kitchen, voice higher than even her normal squeak. She’d always had something of a soft spot for him, the old house elf, which Aaron guessed was largely because she’d had as much of a hand in raising him as anyone. Usually, his return from school was met with a hundred anxious questions about whether or not he was getting fed, and how he could let his socks get into such a state, but today she had only looked at him with anxious eyes. “If the young master was tired enough to want to go straight to his room instead,” she’d said, chewing her lip, “Well, Posey knows how a boy needs his sleep and could pretend she had never seen him.”

It had been a tempting offer, and Aaron had been sorely tempted to hide in his room for as long as he could get away with. But that would only delay the inevitable, and the last thing he’d wanted to do was to get Posey into trouble. 

“That’s alright,” he’d said.

The elf had nodded solemnly, eyes crinkling and ears drooping. “You go on up then, and when you come down Posey will have a hot chocolate for you,”

So her he was, staring at the wooden door, and trying not to think about the fact that she hadn’t made him a hot chocolate since he was eight. Maybe he could just go and hide upstairs for a bit, and-dd

“Are you planning on loitering out there all day?”

Timothy Edward’s voice was no less sharp for being muffled by the door, and Aaron winced involuntarily, before silently cursing himself. It was just his uncle, for Merlin’s sake. Pathetic, was what he was.

Pausing only to wipe his (suddenly, hatefully, clammy) hands on the front of his robes, Aaron swallowed and pushed the door open.

 

\--

 

“Duck!”

The pain came out of nowhere, a dull blow to the side of his head, and then all Alex knew was falling, and the unmistakable collision with the ground. He groaned weakly and willed the world to stop spinning before deciding to risk cracking an eye open.

And scowled.

“You’re laughing at me,” he accused.

The three sisters immediately sculpted their faces into identical expressions of innocence, and he wondered for the hundredth time how on earth they weren’t related by blood.

“Laughing at you? Us?”

“Well maybe if you listened when we yelled at you, you’d stop getting beaten up by enchanted beach balls,” Angelica said wryly.

“They hurt a lot more than beach balls,” he grumbled, pulling himself into a sitting position. “At least they do the way your sister throws them.”

If anything, Peggy’s innocent expression became more pronounced, and he had to smile ruefully. Getting Eliza to teach him how to fly had seemed like a great idea. Until, that was, Peggy got wind of it. And then Angelica. And just like that, his easter had become a merciless bootcamp.

“Do you want to go again?” Eliza asked. “If you tuck your chin a but tighter to the handle and, you know, actually remember to look out for bludgers, you might be able to avoid them this time.”

“Fine,” he let Angelica pull him to his feet and rubbed the grass stains that covered his jeans in a futile effort to clean them. “But this time I get Peggy on my team.”

Quidditch aside, Easter had passed in a lazy blur. Despite a constant fear in the first few days that Mr Schuyler was suddenly going to pull him aside and interrogate him over some mystery crime, it was all too easy for Alex to let himself relax in a way that simply wasn’t possible at Hogwarts. Not that he didn’t love the castle with every inch of his being, but here there was nothing to prove. There were no assumptions to prove wrong, and no mystery letters to solve either. He wasn’t Alexander Hamilton, bastard orphaned Slytherin. He was just Alex. It was novel, and not a little terrifying. But maybe  _ just Alex _ was someone he could learn to like.

But even so, that wasn’t the best thing about the Schuyler house. Not by a long shot.

It had taken three days before Alex had been sure he was going mad. In his frankly insane life,  it hadn’t been the discovery of magic powers, or a mirror that showed his dead mother, or even a goddam invisibility cloak that had Alex questioning his sanity. It had been, of all things, the sound of traffic.

The house was in the middle of nowhere, that much was clear. An old building surrounded by trees and fields, and a single, empty country lane. He’d walked around the property several times to be sure. And yet at all hours of the day, he had been sure he could hear the faint rumbling of cars passing.

It had made no sense. And like anything that made no sense in his life (a list growing with alarming speed), Alex had made it his personal mission to get to the bottom of it.

“Seriously,” he’d said, pushing his way into Eliza’s room on the third night of the holidays. “What is that noise? You must know.”

“What noise?” 

“That… I don’t know, the traffic?” She’d looked at him like he was crazy, but then that might have been the way he’d been pacing around her room, hands flying wildly as he spoke. “I think I’m losing it, ‘Liza.  It’s keeping me awake, it’s always there... Are we near a road? Because I’ve checked. Is there some secret underpass or something?”

Eliza had stared at him for a solid ten seconds before, of all things, laughing. “Not exactly.”

“Then what?”

Ten minutes later, and the four of them were standing at the back door, still in pajamas and slippers. 

“Are you sure about this?” Peggy had hissed. “Daddy said-”

“Daddy doesn’t need to know,” Angelica had interrupted, producing a key from the pocket of her dressing gown. “And Alex deserves to.” She’d turned to Alex, who had been watching them in pure confusion, and pressed it into his hand. “Go on, open it.”

“The door? But why-?”

“Just do it, would you?” 

All three of them had been watching him expectantly so, feeling incredibly foolish, Alex had unlocked the door. Despite it’s old and rusted appearance, the key had turned smoothly, and with a roll of his eyes, Alex had opened the door. And blinked. And blinked again.

“What…?”

The night outside the window was filled with light drizzle, and the field behind the house as unmoving and empty. Just as it had been all holiday.  Which did nothing  to explain how Alex had opened the door to a bustling street bathed in sunlight.

“Go on,” Eliza had nudged him gently, and Alex had taken a tentative step out of the door. 

He’d found himself standing on a crowded pavement, people swerving around him without breaking stride as if on their way to work. Which made no sense, seeing as it was half past midnight and… wait, none of this made a damn bit of sense. He’d turned to face the others, all of whom were watching him with knowing smiles.

“Welcome to Albany,” Angelica had said.

Alex’s geography was pretty good, considering, but even so it had taken him a moment. “Hang on. Albany, America?”

“The very same.”

“But that’s-” he had bitten off the word impossible before it escaped his mouth. He was a wizard after all, attending a magical boarding school with a mysterious stranger sending him invisible items of clothing. Perhaps it was time to stretch his definition of impossible. “So you guys-” he had gestured wildly at the three girls standing in the doorway and openly laughing at him, “-you guys are in England, and I’m on the other side of the damn world?”

“Pretty much.”

“It’s an escape tunnel,” Angelica had explained, blinking as she joined him in the morning sun of a new country. “All the old houses around here had them built so people could escape out of the stables or something during the civil war. Ours just… goes a bit further.”

"A _bit_ further?"

“You can’t tell anyone though!” Eliza had said. “What with MCUSA-ministry relations being what they are and, well, it’s kind of illegal. Family secret, yeah?”

Alex had been helpless to stop the grin stretching across his face. He had turned back towards the sun, to the street of people an ocean away and living right on top of them without ever stopping to consider the world hidden in the cracks of their own. It had been amazing, beautiful… and yet, later that night when they’d finally crept back to bed, it hadn’t been the incredible magic impossibilities that had left Alex grinning into his pillow. It had been the words family secret he’d held tight to his heart.

That had been in the first week of Easter, and he couldn’t believe the holiday was over so quickly, as the sun dipped behind the trees on their last night. The five of them sat around the table, eating pizza and trying to ward of a quiet melancholy in favour of sadness for a new term.

“Wait till the guys see you fly,” Eliza said, snagging the last slice of pepperoni from under her father’s nose. “They’re not going to believe it.”

“Not after they saw him fall flat on his ass,” Peggy added helpfully, not looking the least bit repentant as Mr Schuyler shot her a look over the table. 

Alex shrugged. “Well, I had an awesome set of coaches.”

“You know, he’s not actually as bad a quidditch player as he looks,” Angelica said, chewing thoughtfully. “I still don’t understand how you can have been so awful the first time round.”

“I told you, I was hexed! Or my broom was! Or-” his protests were drowned out in a chorus of groans, and Alex gave it up. Months, and no one believed him about that damned log. Angelica started talking about some magazine article or other and he let it go, not noticing the way that Mr Schuyler’s knuckles had gone white around his glass.

 

\--

 

“So what’s your new school like, Theo?”

“It’s… um…”

“And all the posh kids? Are they really weird?”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

“What, like do they have chauffeurs? And helicopters?”

“Well… they do fly most places.”

“Jesus Christ, I knew it. But… you’re okay there? You don’t get no shit for not being some countess or a footballers kid or something? ‘Cus when you got that scholarship and told us you were going off to boarding school…”

“I’m good. I mean, there’s always going to be assholes, right? But I’ve got some good friends. They’ve got my back.”

“Thank God for that. Thought we were  gonna have to come up there and kick some ass.”

“I’d like to see you try.”

“What, you don’t think we could take some posh wankers who strut around in robes all day? What would they do, realistically?

“Um…”

Theo loved her friends from home, she really did, and they were a part of her she refused to leave behind, no matter how all consuming the magical world was. No reason she couldn't belong to both, and take pride in her muggle roots just as much as the magical world.

But God, her life was difficult to explain.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm alive! Apologies for the temporary hiatus on this one, university PLUS ACTUALLY GETTING TO SEE HAMILTON IN LONDON HOLY SHIT has taken over my life. I'll try to get as much written over Christmas as I can, but I'm a terrible human being so no promises. Thank you if you're still here and reading this mess of a story.

Alex knew he should be asleep, but he couldn’t help sneak downstairs one more time before they had to return to school tomorrow. Not that Hogwarts wasn’t everything he’d ever wanted, but there was something about the door to the other side of the world that he couldn’t help love. It was such advanced magic, enlisted for such a simple thing, and a staunch reminder of all he’d one day be able to do.

He doesn’t know how long he stood in the doorway, not walking outside but allowing the light of another continent to brush his face, when someone cleared their throat. He turned abruptly to see Mr Schuyler standing behind him, an old dressing gown thrown hastily over his shoulder. 

“Good evening, Alexander,” he said. “Shouldn’t you be in bed by now?”

“I, um, Mr Schuyler! I was just, well-” Alex shifted in an unconscious attempt to hide the open door behind him, but Mr Schuyler only smiled softly.

“It’s okay. I figured that the girls would show you sooner or later. Merlin knows I told all my friends when I was their age. Why don’t you come and have a cup of tea?”

He closed the door, flooding the room with darkness once more, and tried to remember how to breathe as he followed Mr Schuyler through the house. Neither said anything as the kettle began to boil with a simple wave of his wand, and Alex’s mug was beginning to cool in his hands by the time Mr Schuyler sighed.

“You know, the friendships you make at Hogwarts define you for life,” he said, and Alex fought not to look surprised, because this wasn’t what he’d been expecting at all. “It did for me, and I hope it does for you. I know my girls could do a lot worse than being your friend.”

“Thank you, Sir,” Alex said tentatively, wondering if this was a really weird version of the shovel talk.

“When I was your age, my best friend was a young Slytherin who made me laugh when no-one else could, and didn’t seem to care in the slightest that I was a Hufflepuff. House prejudices were a lot more pronounced back then, and I know he got a hard time for hanging around with me, but he did it anyway. He turned my hair bright pink, once, I remember, and I gave him fluorescent freckles as payback. We walked around like that for a week before some fifth year took pity and turned us back. Some of the best years of my life, they were.” He paused, swallowed and looked at Alex with a strange sort of fear behind his eyes. “His name was James Hamilton.”

Alex could only stare. He thought back to the book Angelica and found all those weeks ago. _ Unregistered climatic magic, exact incantations unknown. Rachel and James Hamilton.  _ “You knew my Dad?”

“I did.”

“And what about my Mum?” Now that he’d found his voice, Alex couldn’t stop the torrent of words forcing themselves out. “What was she like? How did they die? Did you…? I mean, were you close?”

He sighed. “There was a time when I thought I would never have closer friends. My Kat, and Rachel, and J-James… well, there was a time I thought that the four of us would never be apart. . Alexander… how much do you know of wizarding history? Of the war that almost tore us apart?”  

Alex licked his suddenly dry lips. They’d covered goblin rebellions in history of magic, but somehow he doubted that was what Mr Schuyler was talking about. “I know you were a soldier, Sir.” He manages. “You, and Washington, and a whole lot of other people. And I know that we won.”

“I wonder if we really did, sometimes,” Mr Schuyler says with a sharp laugh that lacks any humour. “And for a long time I thought we wouldn’t. There was a man, Alexander, a wizard who thought he should be the one to rule over all of us. A king, he called himself. The Mad King, more like. And a lot of people agreed with him. And… it was bad.”

“And he killed my parents? That hurricane was him?” Alex’s fists were clenched white under the table, and all the air seemed to have been sucked from his lungs.

“Your mother was a muggle. She should never have been caught up in any of this, we should have told her to run for the hills and never look back.”

“And my Dad?”

“James…” Mr Schuyler swallowed heavily. "James was everything to me. The day we lost him was the first day I truly believed we would lose that fight.”

Alex didn’t  know what to say. He never really knew his parents and only has a vague recollection of his mother, but that didn’t seem to matter. They were his parents. And they'd been murdered.

“I’m sorry, Alexander. Truely. No one should have to find this out, especially not a child, but you deserve to know. Our world is far from perfect, and there will always be those who try to use your past against you. But I want you to know this much. Me and Katherine, we weren’t there for your parents when they needed us. I’d very much like to be there for you. And if there’s anything you ever need…”

Mr Schuyler smiled softly. Alex thought of the invisibility cloak lying upstairs in his bag, and of the note that came with it. He might know who _JJF_  was. He could help them. Or he could take it away. Eleven year olds didn’t usually get their hands on magical items, that much even Alex knew. He’d been copying on his own for years now, and he didn’t suddenly need an adult sweeping in and running his life, even if Mr Schuyler had known his parents. Alex and his friends could solve this on their own.

“Thanks, Mr Schuyler,” he said. “For telling me all that stuff. I’m going to go to bed, I think.”

“Of course. You’ve got a long train journey tomorrow.”

Alex stood and left the kitchen, heart pounding. Philip Schuyler watched the boy until he disapeered into the dark of the hall and wondered if there was anything he could do to stop the boy ending up like his father.

\--

 

“Why wouldn’t Dad tell us about any of this stuff?” Eliza whispered, eyes flitting to Alex. He’d told them about his conversation with their father after half a train journey of acting like he’d seen a ghost, and she couldn’t blame him for freaking out a little. She knew first hand what it was like to lose a parent, but her Mum had died from the every-day kind of evil that was made of hospital rooms and oxygen tubes. Finding out they had been murdered by a monster was another matter entirely.

Alex was sleeping now, face pressed against the train window. Curled up and back in his oversized robes, he looked even smaller than usual. Eliza couldn’t help a fierce surge of protectiveness as she watched him; her friend wouldn’t be going through any more horrors if she had a say in it.

“I don’t know,” Angelica replied. “Maybe it’s like the way he never talks about the war. Say’s we’re too young or whatever.”

“But Alex is our friend! Why wouldn’t he have said-?”

“James.”

“No, I’m Eliza.”

“That’s what he said. When Dad first met Alex, he said James. I bet Alex looked like his father. Must have been one hell of a shock.”

“Maybe.” Eliza imagined losing her best friend, only to bump into an eleven-year-old clone of him years later. It would be enough to mess with anyone’s head. She’s not convinced, though. “But what if there’s something more? Something worse?”

Angelica frowned at her. “Worse than murdered parents?”

“I’m just saying. Dad’s been behaving completely unlike himself for months, travelling around the world with no warning. Shouldn’t we try and find out why?”

Angelica studids her, and she knew that expression far too well. There was the beginning of a plan brewing behind Angelica’s dark eyes, and one that was  going to lead to trouble at that. “If we’re going to do this, we’re going to have to be careful,” she said eventually. “Whatever’s going on here, it all comes back to Alex. What we find out could really hurt him.”

Eliza hesitated, and looked again at her sleeping friend. It was easy to forget that they’d only known Alex for a few short months. She knew  that he liked sugar on his cereal and couldn’t tie a tie and occasionally forgot that  he’d stuck a quill behind his ear. And most of all, she knew that he’d risk anything for her friends. Hell, he’d risked getting himself expelled to help her on the first day they met. Yes, finding out the truth could hurt him, but if they could give him some real closure on what happened to his family, Alex deserved that.

“We owe him this much, don’t we?” she whispered.

Angelica considered for a moment. Nodded. She reached for her bag, no doubt searching for some book or another, but before she could so much as open it the door slid open.

“Hey guys!” Theo all but shouted. 

The two sisters made frantic  _ shh _ ! Motions, but Alex was already awake. He opened one eye blearily and dragged a hand across his face. “W’ss going on?”

“Oh, crap, sorry!” Theo slid into the seat across from him with an unapologetic grin, and Eliza made a sudden decision to never let her within twenty feet of Peggy. The world wasn’t ready for that, she was sure. “Are you ill or something?”

“Nah. I just haven’t slept a lot recently.”

Theo turned to Eliza, outraged. “You were supposed to make sure he got a proper rest!”

“We did our best. Our little sister kind of derailed the plan.”

“Wait,” Alex glares at the three girls suspiciously. “Plan? This is a conspiracy!” He jabbed a finger accusingly at Angelica, who happened to be sitting next to him, although the overall effect was less than authoritative. Maybe it was the fact she was several inches taller and had perfected her raised eyebrow years ago. More likely, it was the drool still crusted to the side of his face that no one felt compelled to point out. 

“You better believe it, Hamilton.” Angelica replied. “We’ve decided that you simply can’t be trusted to look after yourself without intervention.”

“But-”

Theo tossed something at him. It bounced off Alex’s face, shutting him up, and Eliza picked up the package in confusion. “What are these?”

“Pens! You said you missed ballpoints.”

“You’re a saint,” Alex replied, although Eliza hardly heard her in favour of taking out one of the strange sticks and examining it. 

“This is for writing? Why doesn’t everyone use these?”

“Aesthetic,” Theo said at the same time as Angelica replied “Elitism. I mean, I guess they don’t look as fancy as a quill either, but these are fantastic! Can I keep one?”

“Sure,” Theo waved a hand dismissively. “I’ve got another pack for Aaron anyway. Has anyone seen him? He’s not in any of the compartments I’ve walked past.”

Eliza shook her head. They hadn’t seen him on the train nor on the platform, but then it was easy to miss people among the crowds and steam, even at the end of smaller holidays. “He’s got to be around here somewhere.”

\--

 

Aaron was not. 

As soon as he stepped out of the fireplace he was hit by a deep-seated chill that could only belong to the castle dungeons. Sure enough, the office was instantly familiar. Grey stone walls, stacks of books and something frothing    menacingly in the corner. Well two things: his Uncle, and the cauldron he stood next to. Aaron wondered briefly which was more likely to explode in his face, and realised it wasn’t even a contest.

“I trust you’ll keep a close eye on my nephew this term.” Edwards said.

“Oh yes.” Professor Lee was already dressed his robes for the start of term feast. “Don’t you worry about that, sir. He’s in good hands.”

“I’ve yet to see any evidence of that, thus far.” Lee withered visibly. “In fact, under your so-called guidance, Aaron has been mixing with blood traitors and muggles alike. He may be young and foolish, but he’s also my blood. It’s greatly distressing to see such potential go to waste. Don’t you agree, Aaron?”

Deep inside his robes, Aaron’s hand curled into a fist. “Yes, Uncle.”

“Excellent. I expect to hear from you soon.”

He’d been living with Edwards long enough to recognise a goodbye when he hears one, so Aaron wasn’t surprised when his Uncle strode  over to the fireplace without another word. He turned  to shoot one more look at Aaron, one that had him fighting simultaneous urges to reach for his wand and to hide, and then he was gone in a flash of emerald flame. Aaron watched the soot fall to the ground and allowed himself a breath of relief. Then Lee cleared his throat.

“You heard what your Uncle said. I’d have thought that the feast would be a good opportunity to begin forging the right sort of relationships, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes sir.”

The hall was already full of students when he arrived, trailing through the great oak doors behind Lee. Aaron wouldn’t have put it passed his Uncle to have stage this deliberately, bringing him late back to school so everyone could watch him take his seat. He swallowed as four hundred pairs of eyes turned in his direction and headed quickly for the Slytherin table. Half-way down, Theo was waving energetically and moving over to make a space between her and Alexander. Aaron couldn’t help but spare a pang of fondness for her; Theo didn’t care one bit about people staring at her. She didn’t know what it was to have the weight of expectation piled upon her shoulders. He could, though, and Aaron could feel its weight more than ever. 

He could feel it in every bruise and scar that decorated his skin, the ones carefully concealed under his uniform. And was powerless to stop it from crushing him underfoot.

Aaron forced himself to look away from his friends. He very carefully kept his expression neutral as he walked down the table, and very carefully didn’t look at their expressions when he sat down with a group of fifth years instead. Seabury gave him a searching look before shifting over with a satisfied grin. He could picture them well enough though, confusion and hurt giving way to anger.

That’s good, he told himself firmly.  _ You’re a Burr. They were always going to hate you eventually.  _

“Nice that you finally joined us,” Seabury said

“Nice to be here.”

\--  
  
  


“Well, shit.” John said with a low whistle. He immediately winced, regretting his words. He wasn’t sure that there was a protocol for your friend telling you that their parents had been murdered, but it probably involved sympathy and comfort. It most definitely didn’t involve well shit.

Alex, however, seemed unconcerned. “That pretty much sums it up. I mean, what am I supposed to do with this information? Feel empowered? Break down and cry? Avenge them?”

“The Mad King’s dead,” John pointed out. “And maybe you should put the avenging mission on hold until your teacup stops ticking.”

“What? Aww, crap.” Alex stared down at the desk in dismay, and John couldn’t help but last. The two of them were sitting in an empty classroom, desperately trying to perfect their transfiguration spells. Doctor Washington expected them to transfer pocket watches into teacups by monday, and John knew she wouldn’t be any less forgiving because it was the first week back. He couldn’t help but like the transfiguration professor and her brash demeanor,, but she was treating their end of year exams as if they were OWLs at the least. 

Alex corrected his spell, scrunching his nose as he did so. The expression, combined with the oversized christmas jumper that marked him as an honorary Schuyler made him look a lot younger than twelve. “It’s just weird, you know?” He said eventually. “This time last year I was just a normal kid, and now my parents died in some magical war I didn’t even know happened. It kind of spins my whole world view on its head.”

“My dad doesn’t tell me much about it either. It was a horrible time. Those dark wizards, the ones who…” The words killed your parents hung uncomfortably in the air between them, and John cleared his throat quickly. “Well, they made him do some pretty bad stuff. Hurt people, and say things he didn’t believe.”

John carefully didn’t mention the rumours and whispers that still followed him around the corridors. About how Henry Laurens had never been under the imperius curse in the first place. John had heard all that and more his whole life, and done his best to ignore it at every possible opportunity. Sure, his dad was a jerk sometimes, but there was no way he could have done the things people said. The same blood ran through their veins, and John simply refused to believe any of it. 

“Jesus,” Alex breathed. “I guess the magical world isn’t as perfect, not when you really look. I guess I was stupid, thinking that magic was something special.”

“Hey,” John moved to cover Alex’s hand with his own. He knew how much this all meant to the kid who came from a muggle orphanage, and it twisted in his gut to watch the world tarnish before Alex’s eyes. “That shit was years ago, yeah? It won’t happen again. And that magic inside of you. That’s something they can ever take away.”

Alex looked up at him, but whatever he might have said in reply was interrupted by a tapping sound. There was  an owl at the window, pecking insistently against the glass. Alex jumped up to let it in.

“Is it another JJF letter?” John asked with some trepidation, thinking back to the last time they’d gotten post in an empty classroom instead of at breakfast like everyone else.

“No, it’s Moses.”

“The prophet?” he replied without thinking. Alex shot him a strange look.

“No, idiot. The Schuylers’ owl.” He plucked a letter from around the bird’s leg. “That’s weird. It’s for me. Why is Mr Schuyler writing to me and not his kids?

John shrugged, and crossed the room to read over Alex’ shoulder. Instead of the elegant curls that normally addressed Angelica and Eliza’s post, the letter was written in a scribbled hand full of crossings-outs and spelling mistakes.

 

_ Alex, _

_ I've mesed up, I've mesed up really bad and i need your help please be at the tallest tower of the castle at midnight. I wouldn’t be asking if it wasn't an emergancy  _

_ And don't tell my sisters. Please don't tell them _

_ Peggy _

\--

 

Alex read the note through three times, dread pooling in the pit of his stomach. The writing was scrawled as if she had written it in a hurry, with droplets of ink splattered across the page like freckles. Add that to the frantic tone, and the plea not to tell Angelica and Eliza (underlined so hard that she had torn a hole in the parchment) and he knew this could be nothing but bad news.

He glanced up at John, and his face no doubt mirrored Alex’s own - a mix of confusion and concern.

“What the hell?” he asked.

Alex shrugged helplessly. “I have no idea what’s going on. But this is bad.”

“You think?” And if John’s voice had taken on a slightly hysterical screech, Alex could hardly blame him. “This is very bad, Alex.”

“So what do we do? We can’t tell the Schuylers that somethings up.”

“They’re her sisters.”

“And she specifically doesn’t want them to know!” Alex waved the parchment to highlight his point. “Whatever this is, she wants to keep it a secret from them. We should at least tell find out what’s happened before we tell them.”

John ran a hand through his hair, dislodging a curl as he did so. “And if she’s in trouble? What if she’s in some sort of danger?”

Alex opened his mouth in reply, then closed it again. It was easy to forget, what with the youngest Schuyler resembling a human torpedo, but she was only ten. And if she really was mixed up in something dangerous, and he kept it to himself… He glanced down at the jumper he was wearing, at the  _ A _ carefully stitched on his chest and swallowed painfully. If something happened to Peggy because he hadn't said anything, he would never forgive himself. 

And yet she was trusting him.

He could almost see the imploring brown eyes, and wondered what could have possibly happened,  that Peggy would rather confide in a boy she’d only spent one holiday with  rather than her own sisters. 

“We’ve got to go to the tower tonight.” he said eventually. “She’s got to mean the astronomy tower, yeah? We can use the cloak. Whatever’s going to happen, we don’t have any way of stopping it, it’s too late now.”

John followed his gaze out of the window, to the sky that was already streaked crimson with the setting sun. “And the Schuylers?”

“We’ll find out what’s wrong with Peggy. Then we can decide if we tell them or not.”

He didn’t like it, Alex could tell. Alex didn’t much like it himself, but it was all he could think to do. 

The sinking feeling stayed stubbornly in his gut that whole evening, persistently reminding him that he could be making a huge mistake. He ignored it the best he could, trying to focus on whatever story Theo was telling over dinner and hope he was laughing in all the right places. Aaron was at the other end of the table, where he’d been every night for the past week, but tonight Alex couldn’t even find it in himself to be pissed off. Whatever was going on there, it could wait. Aaron would still be hanging out with assholes tomorrow, but Peggy could be in real danger for all he knew. Alex was so distracted he didn’t even notice as Theo eyed him cautiously over her pasta, but she didn’t say anything until they were back in the common room.

“Okay, what’s going on?”

Alex blinked. “What?”

“What’s wrong with you? You’ve been staring at the same page of that book for the last ten minutes.”

He hadn’t even known what he was failing to read, in all honesty. Alex glanced down at the page he had turned to and realised it was his potions textbook. “I’m just tired,” he said, with what probably wasn’t a convincing smile. “And I really don’t understand the homework Lee’s set us.”

“You’re amazing at potions,” Theo pointed out, totally unconvinced, but to Alex’s immense relief she dropped it, and went back to her new favourite hobby of cursing out Seabury. 

That night, Alex took extra care to make sure Aaron and the rest of their dorm were firmly asleep that night before pulling the invisibility cloak out of his trunk and carefully draping it over his head and shoulders. It was in silence he stole out of the portrait hole and through the empty corridors, part lines of paintings and up staircases that were strangely still in the moonlight. But when he reached the Gryffindor common room, where he and John had agreed to meet, Alex couldn’t` help but swearing aloud.

“What the fuck, Herc?”

They had agreed not to tell anyone what they were up to, so quite why Hercules was standing behind John, Alex had no idea. This sure as hell wasn’t the plan.. Unfortunately, he’d forgotten to take the cloak off before speaking, and the two boys jumped about a mile out of their skin.

“Oh my God, Alex,” Herc hissed, looking around wildly.

“You’re gonna give a guy a heart attack,” John complained.

“Sorry,” Alex said, pulling the cloak off, before scowling. “Actually no, I’m not sorry. What the hell is he doing here?” He gestured at Herc, and John sighed.

“He caught me sneaking out and wouldn’t take mind your own business for an answer. Threatened to wake up the whole bloody dorm if I didn’t let him tag along.”

“And you… what? Stopped and waited for him to get changed?” Alex prompted. Because instead of pyjamas, Hercules was dressed in a pair of jeans and a hoodie. 

Herc smiled ruefully. “I may or may not have gone to bed like this. Hate to break it to you, Laurens, but you’re shit at keeping secrets. It was obvious something was up all evening.”

“Christ John, I managed to ditch Theo. What did you tell him?”

“Nothing!”

Alex checked his watch. They didn’t have time for this. And, he supposed, the cloak could hide three as well as two - for all Herc’s height, he was still eleven, after all. “Fine then. We’re here for Peggy.”

“Peggy Schuyler?”

He handed over the letter which had been sitting crumpled in his pocket, and Herc’s eyebrows knit together as he read the hurried scribble. “Jesus…”

“So are you coming?”

“Heck yes. This is the most interesting thing that’s happened all year.”

It took a frustratingly long time to get through the school with the three of them huddled together under the invisibility cloak, tripping over one another in an effort not to reveal their feet. They didn’t see a soul, and even the portraits that lined the walls were sleeping, old oil portraits snoring gently as they passed. Still, they couldn’t risk taking the cloak off. That would be the last thing they needed, to have Lee or some other teacher sweeping down on them from the darkness. Forget the fact they wouldn’t make it to whatever Peggy had planned, three of them would be in detention for the rest of the year, Alex was sure.

Stairs proved to be an added difficulty, and by the time they made it to the top of the astronomy tower, red in the face and elbows jammed into each other’s sides, Alex was beginning to wonder why Peggy couldn't have just sent them to the great hall or something. With a cursory glance around, he pulled the cloak off and stuffed it into a pocket.

“So what exactly are we looking for?” Herc asked, rolling his shoulders to stretch them out. 

“No idea.” 

“ _ Please be at the tallest tower _ . She could have been a little more specific. I mean, are we waiting for a signal, or is there a package, or-“

“Or are we waiting for that?” John finished faintly.

Alex scanned the sky, and a moment later spotted what he was talking about. A dark shape was moving towards them, and moving quickly at that. He frowned as it grew bigger. “Is that an owl?”

It wasn’t an owl. Alex blinked, and spared a moment to wonder if he hadn’t fallen asleep and was just having some crazy dream, as Peggy pulled her broom out of a tight dive, and grinned at them sheepishly. 

“Hi, guys.”

They stared.

“So, I’m guessing I owe you some sort of explanation?”

“You think?” John asked faintly.

Peggy hopped off her broom, and pulled at her hair nervously. It was platted into tight braids, no doubt to keep it from blowing into her face as she flew, but honestly Alex was still trying to get his head around the  _ flew _ part of that sentence.

“What are they doing here?” she asked, gesturing to John and Herc. “Oh God, you didn’t tell my sisters, did you?”

“Of course not. The guys were just in the wrong place at the wrong time, that’s all. Can we go back to how you flew to Hogwarts in the middle of the night?”

“Well how else was I supposed to get here?”

“You’re ten.” Herc pointed out faintly, although Alex didn’t miss the reluctant respect in his voice.

“Eleven, actually. And it wasn’t hard. But that’s not the point. I really need your help.”

“With what?”

She unbuckled the satchel Alex hadn't noticed hanging over her shoulder, and whistled sharply through her teeth. A moment later the leather flap pushed open and something green crawled out into her hand.

John and Herc took simultaneous, stumbling steps back.

“Peggy.” Herc said. “Please tell me that’s not a dragon.”

She bit her lip. “Surprise?”

The dragon was about the size of a kitten, although no kitten Alex had ever seen had leathery wings, golden eyes, or a body covered in emerald scales. He watched, torn between fascination and a desire to run away as fast as he could, as the creature sniffed Peggy’s fingers with interest, before scrambling up her arm to perch on her shoulder.

“How exactly do you just happen to have a baby dragon? A baby illegal dragon. A baby illegal dragon that you flew halfway across the country in the middle of the night…” John trailed off, slightly hysterically. “How is this my life?”

“That’s good point. Where the hell did you get that thing?”

“His name,” Peggy said pointedly, “Is Alfie. Be nice.”

“Alfie.”

“Short for Alfred. And I didn’t get him, I raised him. There’s a reserve not too far from our house. Welsh Greens mainly, a couple of Hebridean Blacks, shielded from muggles, you get the idea. I used to fly up when Dad was away and watch them. They’ve got four breeding pairs now, plus at least seven adolescents, you can tell because the snout is a lighter colour, and.. anyway, there was this egg this close to being eaten by a moke and, well, I couldn’t just leave it there!”

“So you stole a dragon egg?”

“And then raised a baby dragon?”

“Was that thing in the house at the same time as me?”

“I hate to break it to you, Pegs, but I can see a problem or two with that plan.”

The dragon,  _ Alfie _ , Alex corrected himself, although quite why he had no idea, hiccupped and nuzzled himself into Peggy’s neck. She stroked his scaly back absently for a moment, before looking back to them with wide eyes.

“I know. He’s getting too big, and I’m not going to be able to keep him a secret much longer. He’d never hurt me, but from what I’ve read he’s about a week away from setting my bed on fire or something.”

Alex looked at the dragon a little more warily, and was it his imagination or did the damn thing look smug at that?

“So why not tell your dad?” John asked.

“Apart from the fact he’d kill me? He’d tell the authorities, and they’d probably put him down. For a dragon, the first few weeks are vital to family bonding. If they introduced him back into a community now all the other dragons would reject him, and if he can’t be part the breeding program they’ll have no use for him.” Her lips curled at the last sentence. “Bloody bastards.”

“Maybe that would be for the best?” Alex asked tentatively, sure it was the last thing she wanted to hear. Sure enough, Peggy’s eyes narrowed in his direction.

“I’m not going to let them hurt him! They can’t!”

“Okay, okay.” Herc raised his hands in a calming gesture, although whether it was directed at the girl, or the dragon who seemed to have tensed at the same time as her, Alex couldn’t say. “No authorities. Got it. But you know you can’t keep him?”

“I know. What do you think I’m doing here? I need help.”

“I’m not sure what we can do, exactly.” Alex admitted. “I mean, we don’t know the first thing about dragons.I don’t think there’s anything we can do.”

John nodded apologetically next to him, but  Herc smiled. He looked past the impossible girl and her impossible dragon to the sprawling darkness beyond the castle. “I don’t know. I reckon we can come up with something.”


	12. Chapter 12

Hi everyone, it's your friendly neighbourhood writer who is terrible at her job,  
  


First of all, thank you all so much if you've stuck with this mess of a story for so long and through so many breaks (or even if this is the first time you've read it and still made it all the way through). It honestly means so much to me, and going through and reading every comment, suggestion and nice word has honestly been the biggest motivation to get my ass into gear and carry on writing. Unfortunately, in this case, even that couldn't sort me out.

I foolishly thought that I could carry on writing this while battling through a degree that's turned out to be a much bigger workload than A levels, and given the scope of the story I wanted to tell (seriously, there's nine years of stuff to get through!) it's just not going to happen. Churning out a chapter every few months isn't fair to you all, and at this rate I won't be done for years, so unfortunately I'm going to have to abandon this fic. 

I have finished the plot, however, and it only seems fair that I share it (and the random interspersed bits that I have managed to write) with you guys who have been so amazing. I'm going to update a school years worth of my plot notes (in true Harry Potter style) every few days so you can at least see how the story would have ended if I were able to write it to competition. I'm sorry it's not more! If anyone fancies tackling any of the scenes or spring-boarding off my plot outlines, please do so! I'm heartbroken that I'll never write all of this, and it would be nice if someone did. Feel free to consider it a huge prompt if you want!

I'm putting up to the end of Chamber of Secrets in this chapter as an apology (so you get slightly more than a year today!), and I hope you enjoy it.

All my love,

SnowHeart.

 

**Rest of Year One:**

 

“I swear to God, the girl’s insane,” John said with a shake of his head, and they slowly climbed the empty staircase back to Gryffindor tower. The castle took on a new character at night, distorted and pale, corridors too long and corners too sharp, and doorways an inch to the left of where they should be. Alex had always maintained that the building was alive, but with the moon shining a razor blade of silver through the heigh window the very brickwork seemed to breath in time with their steps.

“I don’t know,” Herc replied. It was hard to tell in the half light, but Alex was pretty sure he was smiling. “It’s kind of amazing.

“Are we sure that thing’s gonna be okay?”

“He’s a dragon, John.” Alex pointed out with a smile. “I think he’ll be okay.”

“I was thinking more along the lines of Is he going to grow to the size of a bus and eat us all?”

“Hopefully not?” Alex said. “I’m sure the forest is far more interesting than some old castle.”

It had been Hercules’ idea, one that they’d all agreed with because, really, what else were they supposed to do with a baby dragon? Peggy had flown them down to the forest's edge one at a time, and the three boys had just watched, unsure what to do, as she carefully placed the creature onto the ground.

“Go on, Alfie,” Peggy whispered. “You’ll have a much better time in the wild. You can hunt, and make a nest, any maybe even fly once you’re big enough. Just try not to set fire to anything?”

And if Alex hadn’t known better, he would have sworn the dragon understood every damn word. It watched Peggy attentively as she talked, and even seemed to pout at that last bit. Can dragons pout? he wondered, before asking for what felt like the thousandth time this term how exactly this was his life. Alfie cocked it’s head, before turning and slowly walking away into the undergrowth.

“I suppose it's too much to hope that he’ll get eaten in the hour?”John whispered. Herc stamped on his foot. And if Peggy had subtly wiped her eyes with the corner of her jumper, no one had mentioned it as she flew them back up to the school.

“Thanks, guys.” she’d said softly. “Your forest is a much better home than anywhere I could have found.”

“We’ll look out for Alfie,” Herc had promised (while Alex and John shot each other incredulous looks of  _ oh God _ ). “Now you need to get back home, before your Dad notices you’ve gone.”

“Please.” The eleven year old had flashed a wicked grin as she climbed back on her broom. “He’s never caught me yet.”

(Okay, yes, maybe Alex had to agree with John. The girl was insane. But he couldn’t help but like her.)

 

  * **Exams are a fast approaching and it's stressful as hell. Unsurprisingly, it’s James Madison putting more pressure on himself than anyone else.**



 

“Hey, Angelica-?”

“Not this afternoon James, I’ve got homework.”

His face fell, and Angelica immediately felt a stab of guilt. She’d been putting of his attempts at a study session all term, and with their exams fast approaching he was really starting to panic. Not  that James needed to worry, of course; he excelled in almost every subject and worked hard enough to make up for the rest, but he had a harder time with stress than most. 

“Is it herbology?” she asked, and he nodded. “Tell  you what, come sit with me and do as much as you can, and I’ll go over anything you can’t do. Deal?”

“Deal,” James grinned, and eagerly scooted into the chair next to her. It was amazing that the seat was free at all, given the amount of fifth and seventh years that had piled into the library in the last few weeks. They were all carrying stacks of books and a wild panic that made Angelica wonder how they were all going to cope when it came to real exams. 

Right now, though, she had a bigger problems on her hands.

It wasn’t homework that’d had her chained to a desk for the whole morning. It was four years worth of Daily Prophet articles from the height of the war. They didn’t make for pleasant reading, that much was for sure. Angelica flipped through pages of disappearance and destruction, and did her best not to think about all the suffering that had never been reported. It was no wonder her father had never told them about any of this. By the time she reached the start of the Azkaban trials, she was more than ready to burn the whole lot.

“What’s that, history of magic?” James asked eventually.

“Yeah, something like that. More of a special project, really.”

“Jesus…” James breathed. “Do you ever sleep?”

“Not if I can help it.”

“And meanwhile I can’t even give up with stupid first year exams.”

“What…? Oh, hey,” Angelica looked up and falters. James had thrown his quill down in disgust and was staring at his parchment, unshed tears shining in his eyes. “It’s gonna be alright.”

“It’s gonna be a disaster. I’m a horrible excuse for a Ravenclaw.”

Angelica took his hand and gave a gentle squeeze. “There’s more to Ravenclaw than bullshit exams. And you know what? Even if there wasn’t, you’d be amazing. You work harder than anyone, Maddy, and you’re going to do just fine.”

He offered a watery smile. “Yeah. Sorry, being stupid.”

“No you weren’t. Shall we have a look at that herbology? Merlin knows I need to go over aquatic plants.” She pulled the books towards her and shuffled round to have a look at the notes James had written so far. She’d promised to help Alex, but Alex wasn’t her only friend and it near drove her mad sometimes, how little confidence James had in himself. The boy could do amazing things and she was sure he’d turn the whole wizarding world on its head someday, if only he let himself. 

 

  * **Well, Madison and Alex, He's desperate to prove that he's just as good for having grown up in a muggle orphanage, and that all the weirdness surrounding him doesn't define him. He’s also making time to go see Alfie as per his promise which is great, right up until he gets attacked coming back one night, having forgotten to wear the cloak. It takes a while for everyone to notice he's missing, mostly because Aaron still isn't talking to him, but when they do everyone is predictably freaked out.**



 

“Hey, Burr! Burr!”

Aaron ignored the whisper and bent over his cauldron. Maybe, if he stared at the half-fined potion with enough intensity, they would just leave him alone.

“BURR!”

He jumped back in surprise. Mulligan had leant across his work to hiss in his face, and Laurens and Lafayette were standing behind him. _Brilliant_ , he mused, _the whole gang’s here_. He’d barely spoken to them all term, so quite why they were choosing this potions lesson to pester him, Aaron had no idea. “Can I help you?”

“Where’s Alex?”

Aaron shot a half-glance at the seat next to him. There was no tattered satchel, no ingredients scattered haphazardly across the table-top, and no restless Alexander-shaped ball of energy to hover in his peripheral vision. 

“I have no idea.”

Laurens sighed. “Seriously? You live with him! Was he ill, or…?”

“I really don’t know.” It was the truth, Aaron realised with a sharp prickle of shame. He’d left the dormitory early that morning, as he had every morning this term, and Alexander’s emerald curtains were still drawn tightly shut. He hadn’t seen him all day, all weekend now he thought about it, and there was no denying whose fault that was. There had been several nights when he couldn’t sleep, when all Aaron wanted to do was pull the curtains back, sit on the end of Alexander’s bed and tell him everything. Alexander would hand over some of his limitless supply of chocolate and tell him it was going to be okay… 

_And then your uncle will find out, somehow, and beat Alex within an inch of his life_ , a voice would always whisper at the back of his mind. Aaron kept his distance. 

“He seemed just fine yesterday,” Lafayette put in. 

“Look, I really-”

“He wasn’t at breakfast. I just assumed he was in the library again.” Theo had materialised from the other side of the room, and Aaron tried not to notice how she spoke to the Gryffindor boys and not to him. 

“Perhaps he fell asleep somewhere?”

“This is Alex we’re talking about. I don’t think he knows what the word even means.”

“Exactly, what if he pushed himself too hard again?”

  * **It turns out to have been Seaburry, who found out about his past and wants revenge, although Alex has no idea why. He's going to be fine, although he dreams of the storm again in the hospital wing,** **and is honestly more concerned about what the hell is going on than anything else.**



 

_ Outside the small window, the sound of the sea came drifting across the evening air. He’d known the sea his whole, life, the sea was his friend, and for as long as he could remember it had been there, keeping watch as he slept. Not always the same sea, of course. Sometimes it washed up on yellow sands and sometimes it crashed against the rocks, and sometimes it was alive with a rainbow of fish, but it was always there, wherever they went. _

_ But never had he heard it so angry before. He didn’t like it angry. Angry was Mummy when they broke something, or that scary woman who sometimes came around and shouted. He whimpered softly, wrapped himself tighter inside his blankets, and wished for the sea to be happy again. _

_ It didn’t listen. _

_ It got angrier and angrier until the whole world outside their little room was screaming. Was that the world, or was it people? He didn’t know, he just wanted quiet, he wanted Mummy and he wanted Jay, and- _

 

  * **Washington finally talks to him in the hospital wing, and explains that his family was killed by Death eaters. Alex is floored by the fact that he now knows his mother’s name - Rachel Faucet - and that she died along with his brother James in a magical storm sent by their enemies. Maybe that’s why he doesn’t pick up on how vague Washington is about what happened to his father - just like Philip, all he seems to feel is regret that he wasn’t there in time to save Alex’s family, and promises to do better by him in the future**



  * **It’s Angelica, when Alex is out of hospital, who points out that something still isn’t right here, and Alex is determined to find out what happened to his family. They all go home for the holidays, telling Alex that he has to write, and he has to come and visit.**



 

 

**Year 2 - Chamber of Quiditch, teenage angst, and far too many secrets**

 

It really wasn’t Alex’s fault, when you thought about it. He would argue this point a thousand times, and every time his friends would roll their eyes and laugh, and possibly throw something at him. But it was true. How was he supposed to know an owl would appear in his (very muggle) bedroom in the middle of the night?

It was the kind of day when summer seemed to be in full swing, just somewhere else. The sky was a flawless azure, yet the heat never quite managed to filter down to the streets of London. People either suffered in t-shirts and flip flops though the twin forces of denial and force of will, or gave in to the inevitable British weather and shrugged on jumpers with dejection. 

Alexander Hamilton was in the latter group. Never mind the fact that he had left the Caribbean when he was a little younger than two years old and had next to no memories of the place; there was a deep rooted certainty in his bones that he was meant for warmer climes than this. Not that London in August could be classed as truly cold, he knew. Not when he’s spent the last winter in a draughty castle in Scotland. But it was enough to have warranted pulling on a jumper that morning.

He glanced at his reflection in a shop window as he passed, the  _A_ standing bold against the green wool on his chest. Some of the kids at the orphanage had smirked when he’d first pulled it on a month ago, but Alex had refused to take it off. The simple handmade jumper from the Schuylers meant far more than they could ever realise, and that was worth all the teasing in the world. 

“Hey, are we going or not? They close at four!”

Alex forced himself back to the present with a jerk, and looked up at the boy standing on a few steps ahead of him on the street, hands planted on his hips and a scowl creeping across his face. 

“Yeah, sorry. Just thinking.”

“You’re always thinking.”

“Well one of us has to.”

The boy, in all his nine year old maturity stuck his tongue out, and Alex had to laugh. In the eight or so years he’d spent at the orphanage before the day a strange parchment envelope had come for him in the post, he’d never had a real friend. He’d always been the weird kid, the one who picked fights with bullies twice his size and had read every book on the merger shelf they called a library by the time he was seven. In the world of the British care system, where the first thing every kid learned was to watch their own back, that didn’t exactly make him the prime contender for friendships. 

That had all changed in the last year, of course, and when Alex stopped to think about it, that was the thing that surprised him most of all. Not the discovery of a whole world he had never known existed, not the magic and the spells and the castle. Not even the fact that he could be something special. It had been that, suddenly, Alex knew what it felt like to be somewhere you belonged. 

Needless to say, he hadn’t been looking forward to the summer at all. Six long weeks away from John and Aaron and the Schuylers, and everyone at Hogwarts. What he hadn’t expected, was Ned.

It hadn’t exactly surprised that, in the year he’d been away, there had been some turnover at the orphanage. Kids came and went, got re-assigned to different places, bounced to the latest foster family, and a lucky few had even been adopted since Alex had seen them last. All the same, it had been a little unnerving, on his first night back when all he’d wanted to do was go to sleep and try not to think about how he was stuck here for two months, to wake up to the sound of screams.

He’d been on his feet in an instant, hand already half way to the wand he slept with under his pillow, before he realised the source of the noise had been coming from a the next door bed, and the tiny blonde boy sleeping there.

“Hey,” he’d whispered, making the split-second decision that being woken up was probably preferable. “Hey, wake up.”

The boy had started awake with a gasp, hands tightening around his wrists, and he’d smiled sympathetically. “You okay?”

He’d blinked at him, before reaching to his bedside table and jamming a pair of thick-lensed glasses onto his face, and Alex suddenly realised the boy probably had no idea who he was. “Alex,” he had supplied. “I just got back today. Bad dreams, right?”

“My… my parents.” He’d faltered, and Alex had just smiled sympathetically. Everyone here had a story, and while none were exactly happy, some had had it much worse than others. 

“I’m Ned,” the boy sniffled. “I mean, Edward, Edward Stephens, but everyone calls me Ned, not that you have to, but-“

“Have you tried hot chocolate?”

“What?”

“For the dreams. I’ve got a friend who absolutely swears by it when he can’t sleep.”

The two of them had sat in the kitchen, hands wrapped around stolen mugs for almost an hour, and when he woke up the next morning, Alex had inexplicably developed a blonde shadow.

Maybe shadow wasn’t the right word, he mused as he paced down the London street, trying and keep up with his friend. He seemed to spend most of his summer chasing around after him, trying to make sure he didn’t get himself killed. Alex may be somewhat of a trouble magnet himself, but Ned was the most accident prone person he’d ever met. 

They spent the best part of the day in a little comic store tucked between a dry cleaners and an Indian takeout. Ned was mad for all this stuff, and although Alex had never had much time for comic books he was more than happy to sit and let him rant about some super hero or other. Of course, he couldn’t tell him that in a few years, he would be more than capable of taking on half those heroes himself. 

Alex was still smirking at what Ned would say if he found out about the wizarding world as they went to bed that night. Probably demand to be his sidekick, complete with a cape and visible underwear. He laughed aloud at the thought, drawing a few weird looks from around the dark room, but fortunately he was saved having to explain himself by a rather significant distraction.

Unfortunately, that distraction was a rather large Tawny Owl.

He leapt out of bed and reached the animal first, no doubt due to a year to get used to the sudden appearance of owls. Good thing too, because he was able to grab the envelope tied to its leg and stuff it into the pocket of his dressing gown before anyone else noticed. 

“Is that a hawk?”

“Don’t be stupid, it’s an owl.”

“What’s an owl doing in London?”

“What’s an owl doing in our dorm, more like?”

“Is it injured?”

Alex turned back to the other kids, who were all chattering excitedly and smiled. “Just a little dazed, I think.” He held out his arm, wincing a little as it hoped on and gripped with talons that were sharper than they looked, and lead it to the window. “We should probably let it go.”

They groaned in protest, a couple of the younger ones protesting loudly that the owl wasn’t allowed to stay, so no-one heard him duck his head and whisper “Thanks, Moses.” 

He used his free arm to push the window open a little wider, and gave the bird a nudge. No doubt it was waiting to carry his reply back, but he couldn't exactly do that with a whole room full of muggles watching. Eventually, it ruffled it’s feathers, shot Alex a look that he could only imagine must be owl-speak for have it your way, but they’re going to be pissed, before spreading its wings and taking off into the night.

Alex had to wait until everyone else fell asleep that night to open the letter, which took considerably longer than usual due to the excitement Moses had caused. It didn’t help that Ned was shooting him odd looks, and asking every five minutes “So how do you know how to handle an owl?”

He simple shrugged. “You learn all sorts at boarding school.”

Eventually the dorm fell still, the sounds of snores and deep breathing replacing those of whispered excitement, and, holding a torch between his teeth, Alex opened his letter. He recognised the neat writing instantly. 

 

_Dear Alex,_

_We gave you our address for a reason, idiot. You were supposed to write, and now Dad and Peggy are freaking out and panicking that the muggles have turned you into a human sacrifice or something. Eliza told them not to be stupid, she's the one who actually listens when you and Theo start talking about your weird music or whatever, but she's worried as well.  We’re going to be in Diagon Alley tomorrow picking up all our school stuff (have you seen the Hogwarts letter this year? We need so many books! And of course Peggy needs everything) and it would be really cool to see you there. Dad says you can come and spend the last week of summer with us as well, and all go back to school together?_

_Send us a reply back with Moses, and we’ll see you there. If you don’t reply, we’re going to expect you there anyway, or we might have to resort to slightly illegal means to make sure you’re still alive._

_Yours,_

_Angelica_

 

  * **The staff are less convinced that an owl just happened to fly in, and Ned in particular is suspicious, but Alex is a good liar so he’s not about to be arrested for breaching the international statute of secrecy. He manages to persuade the staff to let him spend the rest of the holidays with his friends, and is too exited to be going back into the magical world to notice how miserable Ned is when he leaves for the Schuylers' house.**



 

“Alex!” Peggy yelled, taking the stairs two at a time and skipping the last four all together as she laughed herself at him in a flying hug.

“Hey, kid! how’s the summer going?” he asked with a laugh. 

“Awesome. We went to France and Angelica got a new broom and my Hogwarts letter came and Dad did fireworks in the back field and nearly burnt the house down and-“

“You want to take a breath there Peggy?” a voice asked cooly, and Alex turned to see Angelica standing in the doorway. “Hey Alex.”

“There’s my angel,” he grinned. “What’s this about a new broom? You know I’m gonna have to see it.”

“Not a chance. We’re gonna wreck you this year.”

“Oh, you’re going to make the team then?” She shot him a look that just said _please_. “Where’s the other one? You know, I could have sworn there were three of you…”

“The other one?” Eliza’s voice yelled from somewhere upstairs. “That’s charming!”

Later, sitting around the dinner table, the conversation turned to school.

“So we’re going to head up to Diagon Alley tomorrow to get everything for school, if that’s alright with you Alex? The girls need their second year books and Peggy needs, well, everything,” Mr Schuyler said.

“Perfect.” It would be good to be in the wizarding world again after a whole summer of muggle London. 

“I think they Gryffindor guys are gonna be around.” Eliza added.

Angelica shivered in mock horror. “Merlin, we need to come up with a better name than the Gryffindor Guys, that’s just tragic.”

“Those idiots?”

“Laf-n-Herc-n-John?”

“The Revolutionary set?”

“No, that one would stoke their egos way too much.” Peggy said, and everyone laughed in surprise.

“It’s like you know them already. You’re gonna fit right in.” Alex said, and then grinned. “Ooh, that’s a point, what house are you hoping for?”

“Answer very carefully.” Angelica smiled, “And know that if you say Hufflepuff instead of Ravenclaw I’m disowning you.”

“Well maybe I’ll disappoint both of you and come hang out with Alex in Slytherin.”

“You wouldn't dare!”

 

“Yo, Ham!”

There was only one person Alex knew with a voice that loud, so he had half a second to prepare himself as he turned before the human truck that was Hercules Mulligan crashed into him. All the same he was almost sent sprawling onto the cobblestones (had Herc somehow grown even more over the summer?) and was only saved by the fact that the tackle quickly became a bear hug.

“Hey Herc.” he said, or at least tried to say as his face was squashed into his friends chest.

Herc released him and smiled ruefully. “How are you doing man?”

“All the better for seeing you,”

“Aww, he hasn't even been here twenty seconds and he’s flirting,” Laf called out as he and John walked over to join them. Alex smiled at his friends - it was great to see them after a whole summer apart. 

“You know I only have eyes for you, Gilbert,” he shot back, Laf stuck his tongue out, and it was like they’d never been away.

The Schuylers disappeared to help Peggy find her uniform, so the four boys ended up in Flourish and Blots alone, catching up on each others summers. Alex found he didn't have much to say - six weeks in Muggle London wasn't much to scream about, after all, so he was more than happy just to listen. Laf and had gone home over the summer and to hear him tell it, had spent the whole time making eyes at every witch in Paris at the fancy functions he’d been dragged to. Alex was still laughing when John jerked his head in a clear come here motion and he followed him, intrigued. 

“What’s going on?”

“Have you heard anything from Burr this summer?”

Alex frowned. “You dragged me behind a bookshelf to ask if I’ve spoken to Aaron.”

“Well have you?”

“Not exactly, but…” he trailed off at the look on John’s face. “What is it?”

John glanced over the shelves to make sure that no one else was in ear-shot before replying. “Probably nothing. It’s just he said he’s send me his copies of Which Broom when he was done with them, and I never got anything through. I mean, I thought he just forget, but then he didn't reply when I sent everyone an owl asking when when they were buying their school stuff…”

Alex thought back to the few tentative letters he’d sent to Aaron over the summer, all of which had gone unanswered. He’d just assumed the boy was busy, or that he didn't have time “You think he’s okay?”

John bit his lip, before smiling reassuringly. “Yeah, course, I was just wondering. He’s probably just being his usual arsehole-y self.”

“I thought you two got on now?”

“Me get on with Burr? How dare you?”

“Hey guys, if you’ve finished snogging in the charms section, can we pay for these and get out of here?” Herc’s voice called out, and John shot him another reassuring smile before going to join the others. Alex followed, but couldn't help but wonder about his fellow Slytherin.

 

  * **The rest of the summer passes in a blur of quiditch (which Peggy is scarily good at) and packing. John, Laf and Herc come and stay with them as well - Laf because he's already in the country, Herc because his younger brother Hugh is also starting this year and it's easier on his parents if he's out of the way while they get Hugh sorted, and John just because.**



 

The last night of August was a hurried one, filled with missing books and odd socks and countless dents in the Schuylers’ staircase from trunks being hauled up and down. Despite the madness, Alex found himself enjoying it; the Revolutionary Set (the name had stuck despite all their protests) were staying over as well, and it was a full house as they crammed in around the table, mixed each others belongings up and generally got in everyone’s way. But by the time Phillip Schuyler sent them off to bed, seven trunks were locked and waiting by the back door, and four boys were crammed into an attic guest room. 

“Shove off, Laf, your feet are in my face!”

“That is only because you’re taking up too much room, you hog.”

“Well what am I supposed to do, go lie on top of John?”

“You’ll have to buy me a drink first, Herc.”

“Careful Jacky, wouldn't want to make Martha jealous…”

The sound of a pillow hitting someone’s face filled the room along with Herc’s outraged complaining, and Alex stifled a snort. He wasn't a Gryffindor, he knew he belonged in Slytherin, but he did hate the fact that he missed out on this sort of every day stuff by not sleeping in the same room as his friends. Still, he seemed to slot into their dynamic like they’d been saving a place for him.

“Or maybe it is Alex who would be jealous,” Laf said after the laughter died down, and Alex rolled his eyes although it was too dark for anyone else to see. “Don’t think I’ve missed the way that you and out dear Laurens sneak off together. In the bookshop, for example…”

“We only do that when we’re talking about you,” Alex shot back. “Pining over you…”

“Yeah, we have a whole fan club dedicated to your calves…” John added

“And don’t forget the lips!”

“Oh piss off, the lot of you!” Laf mumbled, “I will throw you all off the astronomy tower.”

\--

Alex didn't see Aaron at Kings Cross, through the chaos and smoke of platform Nine and Three Quarters. They were all too busy making sure Peggy got herself safely on the train and that John didn't get locked in the luggage car to think about anything else. He didn't see Aaron on the train either, and only noticed after a couple of hours that no closely-cropped head had stuck his head around the door of their compartment. Alex actually got up to go look for him at one point, and Angelica pulled him back down.

“He knows where to find us. And if he’s had to sit with some of his uncle’s friends or something it’s probably for the best if we don’t send Alexander Hamilton in, all guns blazing. We’ll find him when we get to school.” 

So Alex sat back, played another round of exploding snap and tried his best to put Aaron out of his mind. It didn't go all that well, but hey, at least he wouldn't be forgetting the image of Laf screaming as they tried to put out the fire in his hair any time soon.

 --

“No way were we that small,” Theo whispered as the line of first-years walked down the hall, staring excitedly at everything from the ceiling to the ghosts.

“Theo, you’re not even five foot.” Aaron pointed out.

“Shut up,” Alex hissed, eyes fixed on Peggy. She was in the middle of the group eyes wide, but the kid didn't look scared at all. No surprises there.

He’d finally found Aaron and Theo at the Slytherin table. Alex had shot Aaron a questioning look, which he pointedly ignored, but he wasn't going to force the issue. He had a whole year of sharing a room with the boy to find out why he’d been ignoring them all summer, but right now he wanted to watch the sorting.

As with last year, kids seemed to be pretty evenly spread around the houses. There were three new Slytherins (a pair of identical twins with closely cropped hair and a tiny blonde girl) before Hugh Mulligan’s name was called.

Alex felt momentarily bad, he’d completely forgotten about Herc’s brother what with Peggy getting sorted this year, but the boy didn't seem at all nervous. And a moment later he was joining his brother at the Gryffindor table anyway, so everything was good.

“Schuyler, Margarita!” Washington’s voice called out sometime later.

“Margarita?” Aaron mouther at him. “How the hell do you get Peggy from that?”

“Beat’s me,” Alex mouthed back.

She walked to the stool in the centre of the hall and sat, hat slipping right over her eyes. And they waited. And waited. Alex was just wonder if something was wrong when the hat boomed out for the whole hall to hear. “GRYFFINDOOR!”

A small explosion of noise erupted form the corner of the Gryffindor  table where their friends were sat, and Peggy practically skipped over to sit next to Hugh. John whooped, and Laf and Herc were leading the enthusiastic applause, but Alex’s eyes found Angelica’s. And the expression of _Oh shit_ was mutual. The staff weren’t going to know what hit them this year.

 

  * Aaron is being even more evasive than usual when they get back to school, and Alex is worried about it (as well as the continued mystery of his family) but it’s hard to focus on those problems because there is _So. Much. Quiditch_. Herc and John make the Gryffindor team (as a beater and reserve keeper respectively) along with Peggy who really shouldn't be allowed to play as a first year, but is so good that they make an exception. Alex scrapes a spot as back-up keeper (entirely thanks to the Schuyler’s training) and Laf starts doing the commentary.



 

  * The Hufflepuff team is also after Eliza - somehow word gets around about how good she is on a broom - but she steadfastly refuses to get involved. It’s partly because she’s scared of flying, but also because she’s ‘busy’.



 

  * Of course, Alex is far too nosey for his own good and decides that ‘busy’ means ‘has a secret boyfriend’ and he’s determined to figure out who. Eliza denies all of course, but it’s a tough sell when she’s replaced the locket all of the sisters wear (with pictures of the three of them and their parents) with a black stone necklace that she refuses to say where it came from. Alex is insanely curious about who the mystery gift-giver is, and John is desperately trying not to think about why Alex’s interest in Eliza’s love life bothers him so much. Which it _doesn’t_. Of course not. 



 

  * Peggy also keeps sneaking out of her dorm at night, although no one else knows. 



 

  * There’s a lot going on, but it’s the happy kind of chaos. That is, until Maria Lewis (Maria Reynolds’ maiden name for anyone who’s curious) turns up petrified. The whole school is on edge, wondering who the attacker was and just what the hell is going on. To make matters worse, Aaron and Theo have had another falling out. Neither will tell Alex what’s going on, and he’s really starting to worry that this will be a pattern with his only two friends in the house. He has no idea that she's found out how much of a crap-bag his uncle is, and that he's refusing to accept her help.



 

  * Speaking of which, some of the older boys are really starting to treat him weirdly, whispering when he walks into a room, staring at him across the hall and occasionally smiling and winking at him as if Alex is somehow in on a shared joke. Seaburry’s gone but it’s all his old friends, Lee and Conway and the like. When Alex confesses this to Laf, John, and Herc, they tell him that they’re all the children of death eaters. It must have something to do with why his family was killed.



 

  * Things get worse, because they always do when Alex is around. He argues with Theo, because she clearly knows what’s wrong with Aaron and she won’t tell him. She tells him to grow up and learn to see other people’s problems, never mind that she’s yelling so loud half the common room hears. The next day, she’s found petrified. The fact that a Slytherin was attacked shakes the entire school. Up until now, the prevailing rumour had been that the monster was the doing of the heir of Slytherin, who many believe was the Mad King himself, prompting serious hysteria about him somehow still being alive. Now some people think that that can’t be true, others think that Theo being attacked was a sign that muggle-borns don’t belong in the house, but they just want their friend to be okay. Aaron in particular is a wreck, never mind that the two of them have barely exchanged a word all term.



 

  * Alex is honestly trying to keep it together but it’s difficult. He doesn’t know if his friend will be okay, he’s constantly scared, and its not even just the Slytherin people who are acting weird around him now. The school seems to know that he and Theo had an argument the night before she was found, and scared children are very good at drawing their own conclusions. His friends stand by him, of course, but it’s Madison (who Alex has never been particularly close to) sitting next to him one lesson like nothing is wrong that makes Alex think he can get through this. Madison’s brave, he decides, in his own quiet and shy way. 



 

  * It’s Martha Washington who suggests a duelling club, a way to both boost confidence and distract people from what’s going on. She’s a fairly badass duelist herself, and everyone’s looking forward to it. Even Aaron, who’s made a habit of taking his work up to the hospital wing, can be persuaded to leave Theo’s bedside for an evening. Predictably, it goes to hell. Alex turns out to be a pastletongue in dramatic Harry Potter style, and now even his friends can’t be entirely sure that he didn’t do it. They want to believe him, of course, but Eliza quietly admits that she’s scared and the seeds of doubt are a hard thing to remove.



 

  * Madison isn’t sitting next to Alex anymore, Peggy is still disappearing and sneaking off but so often that people have started to notice, Aaron has more emotions than he knows what to do with, and John straight up punches Herc for saying that they can’t be sure it’s not him. Shit, to put it lightly, has well and truly hit the fan.



 

  * Madison, the brave, stupid genius, is trying to put all the pieces together, and he finds the answer in an old legal case, of all things. He’s spent the entire year researching history and magical creatures for any clue, and yet it’s the case notes he reads for fun (because, well Madison) that finally give him the information he needs. And it’s not good news. He scribbles a quick note for Angelica and rushes out the Ravenclaw common room. The first person he sees is Hugh Mulligan, and he tells him to find Alex and tell him to meet him up on the astronomy tower. Hugh does exactly that, and it’s only later, when neither of them show up for dinner, that he thinks to mention it to Herc.



 

  * The Gryffindor Guys and Schuyler Sisters (yes, the names are sticking) rush up to the tower, only to find them both petrified. Shit has not so much hit the fan, as it’s hit a jet engine at this stage. Everyone is a mess, and the only consolation is that at least Alex’s name is cleared. Or is it? _(Dramatic music…)_ It’s hours before they’re all persuaded to leave the hospital wing and go get some sleep, and Angelica finds the note Madison left on her trunk. _Hamilton did it. I’m sorry._ She shows her sisters, confused and afraid, and it’s Eliza who’s been the most scared of all who is sure that Alex is innocent. 



 

  * Why Eliza is so sure is soon horribly apparent. The necklace she’s been wearing isn’t from a secret admirer at all, so much as it’s been possessing her the whole year ( _a la_ Ginny Weasley and Tom Riddle’s diary) and she’s now been taken down into the chamber of secrets. (I know. Original.) Angelica and Peggy go after her, because damn if they’re going to leave their sister to die, and John is also there, because super secret plot reasons that will become apparent in about 3 years time. It’s difficult to get down into the chamber without Alex’s pastletougne skills, but they manage somehow and reduce Eliza and it’s all very dramatic. In the process, John smashes the necklace, still around Eliza’s neck and slowly draining the life from her, into a thousand shards and cuts his hand in the process. His blood mixes with the weird black liquid which was the last essence of the mad king within the stone, and they watch it stain the chamber floor, hardly daring to believe it’s over.



 

  * General end of year round up chapter tying up all loose ends - everyone wakes up and is totally fine. It’s a toss up which of the two is more embarrassed about the whole Aaron staying by Theo’s bedside thing. Peggy, as it turns out, has been sneaking off not to open the chamber of secrets, but to visit her dragon Alfie in the forest, who is about the size of a horse and, amazingly, semi-trained. Herc is the only one who knows this, and really wishes he didn’t.



 

  * Angelica asks Madison why he thought Alex was opening the chamber, and he shows both of them the prison record he found. It’s one of the death eater trials from right after the war, recording that one James Hamilton was sentenced to life in Azkaban for the a string of terror offences, including murder of several muggles by way of a magic storm. Among them, Rachel Faucet. 



 

  * So unsurprisingly, Alex needs some adjustment time. His dad was a death eater. He killed his mum. This is what Washington and Philip have been hiding from him for two years and he’s pretty fucking unimpressed. Angelica thinks back to the book she found over a year ago, listing both James Hamilton and Rachel as victims of the hurricane and wonders if it was a mistake or a deliberate cover-up.



 

  * It was neither, her father later tells them. Philip is done with secrets, especially when his children and Alex (who it’s difficult not to think of as his own, considering how much he once loved his parents and how important he now is to his girls) have been through so much. There was a James Hamilton who died on Nevis, but it was his brother, not his father. James Junior.



 

  * Eliza, meanwhile, is trying to put her life back together. She trashed her room while possessed, clothes and books and sheets torn and lying everywhere. As she picks through the wreckage of her life (please excuse the shitty metaphor) she spots a flash of silver. 



 

Eliza bit her lip and looked at the chaos that was her room. It seemed that she’d all but destroyed her stuff when- _No_ , she told herself forcefully. _That wasn't me. That was all him and he’s gone now and he can’t hurt you any more and…_

She had told herself this a hundred times since she’d gotten out of there, a mantra playing on a loop whenever it all got too much. It didn't help, but she could kid herself that it did and more importantly kid the rest of the world. But Eliza knew that for as long as she lived, she would never forget the sound of high-pitched laughter echoing off stone. There was more blood on her hands than just Alex’s, and it wasn't going to wash away any time soon.

They’d kept something of a constant watch on her in the days since the chamber. For the most part, Angelica and Peggy had refused to leave her side, with Alex and John and the rest always seeming to appear when her sisters needed to sleep for an hour or two. Mostly she appreciated it; Eliza wasn't ready to be alone just yet, but she had asked for a moment of privacy in her room before they cleared it up. Angelica and Hercules were waiting outside the open door armed with bin bags, but she couldn't face it quite yet. She needed a moment just to breathe. 

_One two three. In. Three two one. Out. I can do this._

Eliza made to stand, to call the others in to help pick up the broken fragments of her life when a flash of light caught her eye. She frowned, searching for the source, and it wasn't long before she found it. 

The catch on the locket was broken, leaving it hanging open at an angle that caused the firelight to reflect off it. Eliza picked it up with trembling hands, wondering if this was the first time she had so much as looked at it in the months since it had been discarded in favour of the obsidian necklace. The thing was a little worse for wear, and when she turned it over, Eliza saw that the glass in one of the windows had been punctured so that she could hardly see her parent’s faces through the cracks. She looked from that to the other picture, of three sisters grinning up at her without any real worries or fears and in that moment Eliza made them a silent promise.

She was never going to be helpless again.

 


	13. Chapter 13

Year 3:

  * Lights up, not on the orphanage or the farm in Albany or even Washington Heights. Lights up on Azkaban, where there’s a storm raging through the night. Waves crash against the cliffs, thunder crashes in the sky and no one hears the crashing of half a wall tumbling down. James Hamilton has escaped from Prison, and he knows exactly what he wants to do with his newfound freedom. There's never been anything more important to him than family, after all.



 

  * News breaks and naturally the Schuylers are worried about Alex, not to mention each-other. Philip has vivid memories of his once-friend snarling that he had betrayed him, and knows that he needs to do better this time around and keep those he loves safe. It’s no surprise that Alex spends half his summer in Albany again, although Ned is more suspicious at his disappearance this time around.



 

  * Eliza is far more shaken than she lets on about the events of last year. She keeps having nightmares about dark tunnels and high-pitched laughter, and she channels it into keeping her family safe, the same as her father. She drags the others on runs, outwardly teasing them for being lazy and inwardly wondering if, when the time comes, being able to run that little bit faster will make the difference. Because the time _will_ come when the fragile peace they’ve grown up in will come crashing down. You don’t spend the year inside of a madman’s head without knowing that there’s always a darkness coming.



 

  * For Alex, it’s hard not to feel like that darkness is already here. He’s started dreaming of a boy who he can’t quite remember, nothing more than flashes of curly hair and a hand clutching his, it’s all incorporated into the dreams of the storm which are back with a vengeance since he spent a week in a coma last year. Add to the vague sense of paranoia - once or twice he’s sure he catches sight of a figure watching him - and the fact that when they return to school, Aaron is more withdrawn than ever.This time, Alex confronts him, demanding to be told what's going on.



 

“Aaron, stop ignoring me!”

“I’m not ignoring you,” Aaron insisted, making to push past him. Alex grabbed his wrist to stop him leaving, only to release it a moment later as Aaron winced in pain.

“What-?”

“It’s nothing.” Aaron said quickly, and Alex didn't believe him for one moment.

“Bullshit.” Alex took his wrist (more gently this time) and rolled up Aaron’s sleeve. And stared. Because he boy’s arm was covered in a patchwork ugly purple bruises, mottling his skin. Alex is no expert on this, despite having received his fair share of knocks growing up, but he knows that this isn't the same thing. Not by a long way. This is so very, very much worse. 

“What the hell happened?”

“I tripped down some stairs.”

“These aren't trip marks. Why are you…” Alex trailed off, suddenly horrified. “Aaron, did someone do this to you?”

“No-“

“Was it your uncle?”

This time Aaron didn't answer. He didn't need to. The truth was clear to see across the face he usually kept so carefully neutral, and if Alex had been able to think clearly, he might have observed that it was a sign of how bad things really were that he was allowing the precious mask to slip. As it was, Alex just wanted to throw up. Or punch someone. Not _someone_ , Timothy Edwards. God, he was going to kill the man. He was going to kill him with his bare hands and enjoy every fucking minute of it. What kind of monster...?

It must have shown in his face because Aaron said hurriedly “Leave it, Alexander, please. It’s not a big deal, it’s nothing I can’t handle, it always heals up pretty quick and-“

“ _Always_? This asshole’s done this to you before?” Aaron averted his eyes, and something inside Alex snapped. “Okay, that’s it. Come with me.”

“Where are we going?”

“To Lee.”

“No, you can’t!” Aaron said in panic. “You’ll only make it worse.”

“Worse? What’s your plan, do nothing? You’ve got to make this stop.”

“And you think Lee will do anything? He may be head of house, but he's friends with my uncle, he’ll only tell him and then the next time I go home-“

“You’re not going back there again.” Of that, Alex was sure.

“Whatever. Don’t go to Lee, he’s not going to help me. Please.” 

There was something so vulnerable in the way Aaron said _please_ , and Alex could see the cracks in the facade his friend had worked so hard to build as clear as day. He took a deep breath. “Okay. But at least let me take you up to the hospital wing? Dolly won’t say a word, and she wont ask questions if you don’t want her to.”

Aaron searched his face, and for a moment Alex was afraid he was going to argue. Then he seemed to deflate, all the fight draining out of him.

“Okay.”

They didn't talk on the way up to the hospital wing. It was a walk they were used to treading by now, usually with Alex trying to stem the bleeding from some injury or other and Aaron grumbling at him for getting blood on his robes, yet letting his friend lean on him all the same. Today, they walked in silence, Aaron looking straight ahead with stiff shoulders, pretending he didn't see the worried glances Alex was shooting his way.

Maybe worried wasn't the right word, Alex decided as Dolly rolled up Aaron’s sleeves and the three of them looked down at the marks staining his skin, the unmistakable shape of fingertips a stark contrast. Dolly pursed her lips for a moment, but true to Alex’s promise she didn't pry, only fetched a think salve and began applying it to the bruises. No, Alex wasn't just worried. He was furious. Furious at Edwards for doing this, furious at Aaron for not telling him. And absolutely fucking seething at himself for not noticing sooner. How long had this been happening with Alex entirely oblivious? What kind of a friend did that make him?

“I’m going to have to have a look at the rest of you, honey,” Dolly said after a while, breaking the strained silence. “You’re gonna have to take off your top. Is that okay?”

Aaron took a deep, shuddering breath. For a moment, he was just a terrified thirteen year old boy, and then the mask slipped across his features again. He turned to look at Alex expectantly, and Alex frowned, confused. “What?”

“I think you’re friend would like you to wait outside.” Dolly put in gently.

Why would Aaron care about that? They always sat together when Dolly was fixing Alex up (not holding each others hands, no matter what Laf said, but taking comfort in each others presence none the less) and anyway, Alex lived with Aaron. They’d both seen more than they ever wanted to of each other in the first month, and hadn't bothered with modesty since. 

“He doesn't care about-“

“Alexander, get out.”

Aaron’s voice conveyed no emotion, at least nothing anyone else would pick up. To Alex, he might as well have broken down crying for the amount of pain the little wobble on the end of his name gave away. Alex nodded, dazed, and half stumbled to the door. He turned back to tell Aaron he’d be waiting for him outside, only to be met with thy sight of Aaron pulling his shirt off, and the patchwork of scars that it hid.

As it turned out, there was enough in his stomach to throw up after all.

 

 

  * It’s not all dark stuff this year, though. They can go to Hogsmeade for the first time which is amazing - Laf and Herc all but buy out the entirety of Zonkos, and Alex and Theo spend far too much time in Honeydukes, marvelling at all the wizarding chocolate they never knew existed. They’re all sitting in the three broomsticks when Maria Lewis walks past, and this time it’s Eliza’s turn to tease Alex for having a crush. He’s all blustering denial and everyone is so bust concocting ridiculous ways for him to ask her out (never mind that she’s the year above them, and entirely out of his league) that no one notices John excuse himself to the bathroom to give himself a stern talking to in the mirror. Alex is his friend, his _friend_ , and he shouldn't care. Whatever this weird thing is (he refuses to use the word crush in his head), he will just have to get over it. John, as we will discover, is almost as terrible at emotions as Alex is. 



 

  * Christmas is a subdued affair. James Hamilton is spotted in Edinburgh on Christmas Eve, and Washington bans Alex from going to Hogsmeade until he’s caught. Alex, unsurprisingly, is not too happy about that and they have something of a screaming match. (The line “don’t call me son” may or may not make an  appearance…). Aaron stays at school, which is a relief, he’s doing his best not to think about what happens this summer.



 

  * Other fun things this year: Eliza has agreed to join the Quiditch team this year as an outlet for her stress, and after a bit of trial and error makes an amazing seeker. Alex resigns himself to the fact that they’re never going to win that damn cup, and Angelica steadfastly refuses to take sides as Hufflepuff and Gryffindor emerge as the two leading teams. Eliza is also loving muggle studies, and doing some serious bonding with Theo about muggle culture.



 

  * Peggy is still visiting Alfie, and he’s almost fully grown. Occasionally, the two go out for night flights and she’s never felt more alive. She thinks she’s being subtle, but Herc usually spots her sneaking out the portrait hole, and sits up until she gets back, just to make sure Alfie hasn’t eaten her or friend her to a crisp. It never happens. As much as he hates to admit it, this girl might just know what she’s doing. 



 

  * They also learn to fight bogarts which is… less fun. Sure it starts off harmlessly enough. Laf kicks his vampire’s ass, Theo manages to beat her Weeping Angel (which takes some explaining to the confused pure bloods) and Herc, as it turns out, is deathly afraid of frogs. It’s all fun and games until Alex sees Aaron and Eliza each staring at the bogart with horrified expressions, and there’s no way he’s going to let either of them do this. If Aaron’s uncle appeared in the middle of the room it would spill his secret to the entire class, and some twisted apparition of the Mad King would probably be a bad idea as well. So he steps in front of them to take his turn, only to be met with his own face. Well, that’s not quite true. He’s slightly older, looking that bit too much like the wanted posters in the daily prophet, and wearing a cruel twist about his lips. That and a set of death-eater robes. So much for trying to avoid rumours about him being an evil, muggle hating psychopath again this year. It doesn’t matter that being one of them is clearly his biggest fear, word gets around the castle by the end of the day.



 

  * Alex spends about a week moping before John finds him out by the Black Lake, throwing rocks into the water. He explains that he had no idea he that he was scared of ending up like his father until he came face to face with that boggart, and now he can’t stop thinking about it, wondering if that will happen. James Hamilton was an ordinary guy at school with friends who loved him, and he grew up a murderer. What’s to say that they’re any different?



 

  * John tells him that it absolutely won’t happen. He knows evil - his father spent half the war under the imperius curse and Alex is nothing like the monsters that did that to him. “You have to stop me,” Alex insists. “If one day I turn out to be the monster I’m afraid I am, you have to stop me before I hurt anyone. Promise me, John.” John promises, mouth dry and too worried about his friend to even obsess over the hand that clasps his wrist. They go back up to the school, and across the lake a figure watches them. James Hamilton has Alex’s eyes and hair that would curl if it wasn’t weighted down by its length, and he doesn’t move until the two boys can no longer be seen.



 

  * Laf notices that Eliza still isn’t doing so well - its not easy living in the same castle that you spent a whole year possessed in, and it’s taking so much of her energy to hide it from her sisters that she sometimes fails to keep her walls up in the classes they share - and decides in true Lafayette style that pranking her will be the best way to cheer her up. His plan backfires and she ends up breaking his nose as a reflex. This is how he finds out that Quiditch isn’t the only sport she’s doing to keep her mind off things.



 

  * After this they start running together - Eliza has been getting up at 5 to run every day of the year and Lafayette is, well, a teenage Daveed Diggs, so they’re pretty well matched - and she teaches him the basics of muggle kickboxing. It’s an idea she got from muggle studies - the dark forces out there aren’t going to be expecting them to fight back with muggle tactics. He doesn’t believe her about whatever dark forces she imagines are coming, but he’s glad that Eliza’s got an outlet, and that girl has one mean right hook.



 

  * James Hamilton is spotted in Hogsmeade, and everyone is confined to the castle until future notice. Alex goes to bed that night, more than a little afraid, and finds a folded note on his pillow. _The Willow. Midnight. JJF._ It can’t be a coincidence. It might also be his only chance to find out what the hell has been going on for the past three years of his life. Alex goes. 



 

  * He doesn’t get far. Aaron’s waiting at the portrait hole. Alex takes one look at the boots he’s wearing and expression on his face, and doesn’t even try to persuade him to stay behind. They both still fit under the cloak, after all, and it’s all too easy to sneak out into the grounds. _The willow_ can only be the whomping willow, and they stay hidden until a figure emerges. They don’t need to be that close to see that it’s James Hamilton. 



 

  * They’re bloody lucky that James doesn’t know about the cloak, and so isn't expecting invisible witnesses. They watch him watch the castle. Aaron is almost too scared to move, and Alex… Alex all but sees red. Never mind the fact that he’s fourteen years old and this man is a death eater, he killed his mother. Aaron tries and fails to hold him back, but before Alex can get close to him someone else appears out of the passage under the whomping willow and drags both boys inside.



 

  * At first, Alex thinks it’s his father, and is torn between rage, terror, and confusion at how the man can be in two places at one. Is it some convoluted time travel? No. He’s much younger than James, twenty or so, and although he looks haggard and thin, his eyes soft and hazel and not the haunted ones that stare out of the wanted posters. It’s not Alex’s father at all. It’s his brother.  James Junior.



 

  * Expository dump mixed into a really emotional conversation: JJ survived the hurricane (they never found the body) and stayed hidden because he was convinced that his father was coming for him. Even when he was old enough to know that he’s safely locked away in Azkaban, he couldn’t bring himself to go back - this was the system who failed his mother and taught his father, and he hates Washington and the Schuylers almost as much as he hates the death-eaters. The one time he did come back was to check on Alex, and once he found out that he was safely in a muggle orphanage, James went to ground. He learnt magic in back alleys and underground rooms with those who fell through the cracks of it’s world, and for that reason his magic is slightly different. It relies on the power within him that he never really learnt to channel and probably knows fewer spells than most first years, but he’s all the more powerful for it. Alex shouts, JJ shouts, Aaron feels like he really shouldn’t be there for this, but hey, someone needs to remind the two that their fucking murderer of a father is still around



 

  * James sn. is why JJ has come back. He know his father, knows how obsessed he is with family. Everyone thinks JJ is dead, but there’s nothing stopping James from coming back for Alex and he’s been keeping an eye out all year, and tonight is their best chance of catching him.



 

  * There’s a hopeful moment when it looks like Alex may get to go and live with JJ (and Aaron could stay with them and never have to go back to his Uncle), but the plan goes drastically wrong. JJ has to reveal to his father that he’s alive, and makes a deal to swap himself for Alex. He’s the oldest, and the only son James ever really knew, and he’ll leave willingly with him and start their own family somewhere far away. James is fairly unhinged, accepts the deal, and JJ has to stun Alex, because otherwise he’d try to stop JJ leaving.



 

  * He wakes up in the hospital wing with a worried Aaron and the realisation that he’d found and lost a family in the space of a night.



 

“I’m so sorry,” Alexander said, his voice little more than a whisper.

It was dark in the hospital wing, the thin sliver of light from between the curtains barely enough that he could see his friend at all, but Aaron turned to face his bed anyway. “What on earth are you sorry for? I’m not the one who just lost…”

There was no need to finish the sentence, and all that was left unsaid hung between them. This had been Alexander’s chance, his one chance for the family he’d never imagined he could ever have. He’d always been an open book, and for ten glorious minutes his friend’s joy had been shining through the cracks. The idea that he could leave the orphanage, go and live with his brother… well, it had meant the world to Alexander, that much was clear. And now it had been taken away again. 

Yet, for some reason, Alexander was apologising to him.

“I know. It’s just… I promised you somewhere to stay. Somewhere that wasn't your Uncle’s. I thought, maybe, this could have been it.”

 _It could have been it for both of us,_ Aaron thought bitterly, and here we are. All he said, however, was “Yeah.”

And neither boy spoke again until the first tendrils of sunlight crept into the room.

 

  * They’re all in Hogsmede for the last visit of the year a few weeks later, and Theo goes to check the post office for any muggle post from home. She comes back with a letter for Alex, complete with a stamp and real address. It’s from JJ, telling him that he’s okay, and that this is for the best and that he promises not to let their father change him or turn him to the death eaters. It’s signed _JJ Faucet_ , and Alex can barely choke back the sudden tears. _JJF_. His big brother’s been looking out for him this whole time.



**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not a lot of actual written scenes in this one (so sorry about that) but I've done far more of year 4...


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You are advised, dear reader, to note the changes to the tag warnings

  * Open with a meeting of sufficiently shady death-eater types, talking about some grand plan - yes kids, it’s _plot getting real_ time. They talk about how the time will soon be near that ‘His Majesty’ will walk among them again, and how it’s going to take sacrifice. Specifically, _‘The Boy’_ is going to have to die. One near the back, who’s heavily implied to be James Hamilton asks if this is really necessary, and that there must be another way. He’s taken aside by Howe (who’s kind of like the death-eater general figure because references) who says that he knows this is hard, but one day the world will remember his son as the hero who enabled the King to return. They go back to making (Lucius Malfoy voice) eeeevil plans.



 

  * Alex goes back to orphanage - needs some time away from the magical world to process the fact he now has a brother and a father intent on killing them both somewhere out in the world. He gets another letter from James, equally devoid of detail but letting him know that, for now at least, he's okay. Ned’s now the same age Alex was when he went away to school, and it’s hard not to feel like a big brother himself to this kid who’s already seen so much hardship. He talks to Ned about his school and his friends, without giving away the whole magical element, and reflects on how family is a strange idea that actually has nothing to do with who you’re related to.



 

  * Aaron, meanwhile, is spending the summer with Theo. He’s overwhelmingly confused about muggle life to start with - she has to explain that he’s a posh asshole who’s lived a very sheltered life but a nice asshole - but he soon grows to quite like this world he’s never known. It’s a strange feeling to be all but cut off from magic for a whole summer, and they have a heart to heart about the fact that he’s probably disowned, and he doesn’t even care. 



 

  * Everyone meets up on the train again, and Lafayette is buzzing about some big secret that he can’t tell the others. 



 

Alexander Hamilton’s fourth year at Hogwarts began with a smile, and ended with a single white rose placed on freshly-dug earth. This is how he’ll remember it afterwards. He’ll remember how his hands shook as he placed flower on the ground, how he knew that the world would never be the same, and how utterly, honestly, happy, the beginning had been.

The smile was Laf’s. It was his trademark amused grin, with just a touch of the smug satisfaction that came from knowing something that none of his friends did.

“Come on Laf…” John whined for the fourth time. “Just tell us what the big secret is already.”

“I cannot do that, my dear Laurens.”

“Why not? You know, what makes you so special??”

It must just be that I’m more important than you.”

John threw his hands up in the air. “Whatever. You’re insufferable, you know that?”

 _“_ And that is one of my most wonderful features _, non?”_

Everyone just rolled their eyes. They were all crammed into one compartment of the Hogwarts Express, eating their way through a mountain of food and generally hurling cheerful abuse in each other’s directions. Alex, from his position squished between Herc and Eliza swallowed his huge mouthful of chocolate frog before saying “So let me get this straight, Laf. You come back from a summer in Paris with this big secret about what’s happening at school this year, but you’re not aloud to tell us about it?”

“That is correct.”

“But you are allowed to tell us there is a secret and generally be an arse?” Angelica added.

“That too.”

John groaned again, and Alex couldn't deny he’d missed this.

By the time they’d reached Hogwarts and piled into the magical carriages, the group had tried every version of “Come on, what’s the secret,” and “Why can’t you just tell us?” but Laf remind infuriatingly tight-lipped about the whole thing. That wasn't like him either, come to think of it. Laf was usually the last person you’d want to tell a secret to because he couldn't help but share it with everyone. 

They were met in the entrance hall by James Madison, and Alex half-waved in greeting. True, the Ravenclaw wasn't his closest of friends, but they’d spent a fairly long time working together last term and he’d always got on well with Angelica. But James didn't even seem to see Alex, walking straight past him to Laf. 

“He told you?” the Ravenclaw asked with a bright smile. 

“Of course he did. Couldn’t help himself.”

“This year is going to be so much fun!”

Alex shared a look and John who seemed to be equally mystified. As far as he knew, Laf and James had never been more than casual acquaintances at best, and here they were ignoring everyone else completely to talk about a secret the others weren’t a part of. 

“Fancy sharing with the class?” Angelica asked.

“You told them?” James asked Laf accusingly.

“Not a word.”

“What?” Peggy grumbled. “This guy gets to know but not us?”

Laf made to ruffle her hair, and she darted away with practiced ease. “Do not fret, I’m sure you’ll all find out soon enough.”

 

 

  * Get to Hogwarts to the news that Laf's big secret is the Goblet of Fire.  This bit’s fairly consistent with the Harry Potter books, explanation of the ti-wizard tournament (except there’s no age limit on entry). Henry Laurens (John’s Dad) is one of the the ministry people there to supervise.



 

  * We meet the delegations from Durmstrang and Beauxbatons. Durmstrang is lead by a scowling asshole who turns out to be James Reynolds. A Beauxbatons boy bounces straight up to Lafayette, and _dear fucking God_ it’s Jefferson. John, Herc and Peggy who are sitting near-by hate him immediately, although Laf can’t understand why. Jefferson introduces them to his friend Adrienne, who seems nice, if a little distant.



 

  * General settling back into the school rhythm, and it looks as if it’s going to be a nice, chilled out year for once. Everyone is kind of annoyed that Quiditch is cancelled, especially Alex who thought he might have a shot at the team this year, but they figure they can just as easily set up their own games. They even invite people from the other schools, which is great as long as they keep Alex away from Jefferson - they get on not at all, as it turns out. Aaron finds he can help Eliza out a bit with Muggle studies, and it’s generally quite nice. Until they announce the Triwizard champions that is. Reynolds is the Durmstrang one, Adrienne the Beauxbatons, and John the Hogwarts, leading to many around the school believing that he must have cheated or worked with his Dad to get himself picked.



 

  * His friends know it’s not true, of course, and Alex especially stands up for him. It’s partly because he knows what it’s like to have the whole school against you, but also because John’s his friend and it hurts to see him miserable. The two of them have also matured a bit over the summer (physically, not emotionally - not these two idiots), and there’s a crackle of _something_ in all their interactions. John, who has resigned himself to being entirely in love with this boy a long time ago barely notices, but for Alex it’s new and a little bit terrifying.



 

  * The first task again goes much the same way as it does in the book, although it’s John’s Dad who tells him about the dragons, looking uncharacteristically guilty as he does so, although John just chalks it up to him feeling bad about breaking the rules. He’s torn between being furious that his Dad’s cheating for him, especially as everyone thinks that’s what already happened, and being thankful he knows.



 

  * He decides to use his broom to get past the dragon, and they all do some group training with Alfie, who Theo is now handling like a master. All the same, everyone is nervous for him, but it’s only sitting in the stands and watching that Alex is suddenly terrified for his friend. It’s a hundred times harder to watch John face down a dragon than it is for him to fly past it, and everyone gets the rather chilling revelation that this isn’t a kids game anymore.



 

  * With the first task over, Christmas is fast approaching, and that means the Yule Ball (get hype) - it’s hugely entertaining to watch Professor Lee awkwardly try and teach all the Slytherins how to dance - Theo has to leave because she’s laughing too hard - but that brings the extra pressure of having to find someone to ask to the ball.



 

  * It’s especially stressful for John, who’s under pressure to find someone to open the ball with. Especially as he’s fast realising that the one person he wants to go with is Alex. He panics and says he has someone to go with already - Angelica is far too smart for her own good and asks him what’s really wrong, and John ends up breaking down and confessing all to her, and she offers to be his date as a friend, and be there for him however he needs it. 



 

  * For the others, it’s half-exciting, half-terrifying - they’re 14/15 and emotionally idiots, let’s not forget. The boys all make a deal to just get it overweight and find a date by the end of the weekend.



 

“So what’s the game-plan?” Alex asked, shivering. The two Gryffindors, plus he and Aaron were huddled together in a courtyard, and he’d underestimated just how close they were to full-on Scottish winter. But right now, they had bigger problems than the cold. 

“We don’t need a game-plan, right?” Herc said. 

Alex grinned. “Exactly. We’re all attractive guys. We can get a date, no problem.”

“Sure.” Laf agreed. “No problem at all.”

“So we’re agreed. Everyone has a date  to this bloody ball by the end of the day?” 

“Agreed.”

"Agreed."

"Sweet Jesus..."

"Aaron?"

"Fine, yes. Agreed."

-

Herc wasn't like his friends, he had never had hoards of girls following him around, and for the most part that was absolutely fine by him. Sure, the odd hook-up here and there was fun, but mostly he just didn't have time for the whole relationship thing. Not on some semi-casual basis, anyway. The day that Herc fell in love, he wanted to do it entirely and unquestionably, to find someone that he could be everything to, and they everything to him. Call him a hopeless romantic, but it was true, and there was no point lying to himself about it. Of course, that did make things difficult, now he had made this stupid deal to find a date by the end of the day, but Herc had a plan. And he knew exactly who he was going to ask.

Peggy was up in the owlary when he finally tracked her down, tying a huge stack of letters to the legs of various school barn owls. Christmas cards he guessed by the bright red envelopes - either that or she suddenly felt the need to send everyone she knew a howler. Which wouldn't be outside the realms of possibility. You never quite knew with Peggy.

“Need a hand?” he offered.

She looked up in surprise. “Oh, hey Herc. Yeah please, I told Angelica I’d sent these off days ago, she’s going to be so pissed if they arrive late.”

He was relieved to find out they were Christmas cards, and he was onto his fourth owl, a particular grumpy one who didn't seem to want to stand still when he asked “So you’re definitely staying at school for the holidays?”

“Yeah. Dad wasn't thrilled about it, but it wouldn't be any fun just me at home. I’d much rather spend the time with you guys. And everyone says you’ve got to see at least one Hogwarts Christmas.”

“And the Ball?”

She darkened at that. “Nah. Still no invite. Guess I’ll just be eating cookie dough in my pjs and smuggling butterbeer back to my dorm.”

“No you’re won’t.”

“Is Hercules Mulligan getting all responsible on me? Piss off. I’m only five months younger than you, and I know for a fact you guys have been sneaking booze in for years now-”

“No, idiot. I mean you’re not spending the evening sitting in your pyjamas. You’re going to the ball, Cinderella.”

Peggy frowned, the muggle reference clearly going over her head. “But I’m not going with anyone.”

“Sure you are.” Herc smiled. “Me.”

“You’re serious?”

“No, I’m messing with you.” he deadpanned. “Of course I’m serious. Got to see at least one Yule Ball as well, right?” 

Her frown turned into a grin, the smile lighting up her whole face. “Oh my god! You’re the best!” She threw herself at him, and it was a good thing she was a lot smaller than he was, because the momentum nearly knocked him over as it was. Herc laughed as she hugged him, but a moment later she pulled away, a look of horror on her face. 

“It’s only three days away. What the hell am I going to wear?”

-

 

“Hey, ‘Liza. What are you up to?”

Eliza gestured to the pile of books with diastase. “Charms. I still can’t get cheering charms right.”

“Aww you don’t need a cheering charm. One look at you and anyone would be cheered up.”

She looked up in surprise, blushing prettily before her eyes narrowed. “What do you want, Hamilton?”

“Can’t I offer you a simple compliment?”

“Not unless you need something, or you’ve suddenly decided to start flirting with me after three and a half years, no. So which one is it?”

He smiled (he hoped) charmingly. “Bit of both, actually. How would you like to be taken to the Yule Ball by yours truly?”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah, why not? I’m a good looking guy, you’re a mildly good-looking girl…”

“A second ago you were complimenting me.”

“You seemed freaked out by the complimenting, so I changed tactics.”

She laughed, and that was when Alex knew he’d got this one in the bag. “You’re an idiot, Alexander Hamilton. And you can pick me up at seven.”

-

 

Laf grinned as the group of girls approached. This whole thing was going to be way too easy, so why not set himself a little challenge? He knew from experience that he could score himself a date in two minutes flat if he had to, but where was the fun in that? No, he was going to do this properly. And properly meant Adrienne Lacroix.

“Excuse me, miss.” he said, stepping neatly into the path of the girls with a winning smile and slipping easily into his mother tongue. “I was wondering if I could have just a moment of your time?”

She blinked, clearly not expecting a boy in Hogwarts uniform to start speaking French to her. Then she smiled and waved her giggling crowd of friends away.

“You speak my language well,” she said.

“I would hope so, it’s my language too. Gilbert de Motier, at your service.” He kissed her hand. It never hurt to be a gentleman, after all.

“My name is Adrienne,” she replied. “Although I suppose you already know that.” There was no conceitedness in the statement - it was true, after all - just a strange sort of weariness. He frowned.

“You’re the champion. Didn't you want that?”

“Honestly? I didn't think it would be so…” She trailed off, waving her hands and he thought he had an idea about what she meant. He had always hated the feeling of being permanently on show whenever his parents dragged him to court in Paris, and he imagined it was the same for her right now. John just brushed off the stares, but maybe that wasn't quite so simple for her. He suddenly felt he was going about this all wrong.

“Like you are a goldfish, yes?” he said, and succeeded in producing a surprised laugh.

“That’s one way of putting it.”

“I tell you what, Adrienne,” he said. “Why don’t you tag along with me to this ridiculous ball, and that way everyone will be so enchanted with staring at me they won’t even notice you.”

“Oh, you think?” she crossed her arms, but there was a smile playing around the corners of her lips. 

“At least I won’t step on your toes like these English idiots. They never learn to dance as children, can you believe?”

“I can believe that, actually,” she said, but a smile, a reluctant, genuine smile was creeping across Adrienne’s face so Laf decided to count it as a win.

-

 

“What children.” Theo finished, twirling a forkful of spaghetti as Aaron finished telling her about the ridiculous bet he’d somehow agreed to. 

“Agreed. It’s like they’re asking to have their hearts walked all over by a pair of high heels.” He paused. “Want to go together and laugh at them?”

“Okay. Pass me the salt?”

 

 

 

  * All the drama of the Yule Ball, aka the Jesus Christ, these kids are suddenly teenagers with emotions and hormones chapter. Angelica manages to stop John making a total fool on the dance-floor, Laf and Adrienne are just the ultimate beautiful power-couple, and Maria Lewis is there with James Reynolds. Alex watches them dance, wondering why he doesn’t feel anything for the (drumroll… Gryffindor!!) girl he was so obsessed with last year, and why his eyes keep slipping back to John instead. Merlin, he needs a drink. Meanwhile, Aaron and Theo are just there to silently (or not so silently in Theo’s case) judge everyone.



 

  * Eliza is far too smart to see that Alex is pining, and she puts two-and-two together pretty quickly, finding a convenient excuse to drag Angelica away and leave the two boys alone at the end of the night. That crackle of something is back, and it crashes down on Alex in one fell swoop exactly what he’s feeling. 



 

Snow started falling from the charmed ceiling a little before midnight, flat flakes drifting down to coat everything in a sugar dusting of white. John couldn't tell if it was because it had started to snow outside, or if it was a special feature of the evening, but he supposed it didn't matter. The effect was the same: mystical and beautiful, and enough to make him want to throw up in his mouth a little. The hall was starting to empty, many couples having long since drifted away in each others arms, and more than one in tears. He looked around for a familiar face, frowning. Herc went to walk Peggy back up to her dorm, Laf and his mysterious girlfrined ("Not my girlfriend, asshole!") had long disappeared into the night, and even the Schuylers were no-where to be seen.

“You ready to call it a night?” Alex asked, appearing at his shoulder out of nowhere. John had to take a moment to compose himself before he turned around, but was nowhere near enough. Alex was wearing his dress-robes like he had been born to them, rather than having ordered the first set he could find in a mad panic two days ago. It wasn't fair, no flouncy piece of fabric should look that good on someone. He’d had his hair pulled back for most of the evening, but at some point it must have come loose, falling to his shoulders, framing his face like curtains about to swing shut on a stage.

John didn't answer right away, unwilling to admit that he couldn't face the thought of trudging the lonely route back up to Gryffindor tower, only to have  listen to Laf wax lyrical about love for hours on end. He must have hesitated a moment too long because Alex grabbed his wrist, and John was unable to stop the treacherous leap of his heart.

“Thank God, me neither. Let’s dance.”

John should stop himself, he knew. He shouldn’t let himself be lead onto an empty dance floor, nor should he let Alex place a hand on his shoulder and another on his hip. And he most definitely shouldn’t sway in time to the string quartet who didn’t seem to mind in the slightest that they’re only playing for two sixth years moving slowly across the room. But then, he’d never been a good person, not deep down.

“So was it so horrible, being my date?” Alex asked with the ghost of a smile.

 _Yes_. “No. Although I’m fully expecting a hoard of jealous witches to lynch me the moment I leave this room.”

“I’ll write you a beautiful eulogy.”

“You’d better.”

For a while, neither boy spoke. Then Alex reached up and brushed a dusting of white from John's hair. It drifted down to settle on his shoulders instead. “You had snow,” he explained, and John simply couldn't help himself. As if in a dream, he leaned in a little closer until Alex's breath was warm on his cheek, and for one perfect moment, he could let himself believe that this was something he could have. And then, like all dreams, it shattered, and Alex jerked away sharply.

Abruptly, he turns away, hiding his face so Alex can’t see the tiny heartbreak cracking its way across it. 

“Alex?”

“You know what, I am pretty tired after all. I’m going to go to bed.”

“But-”

“Goodnight, John.”

He walked out of the Hall, and John could only stare after him, tensing every muscle in his body in an effort not to call out Alex's name. He half wanted Alex to turn and look at him again, and was half terrified that if he did, Alex would see the soft heartbreak spreading across it. Maybe that would have been better, he thought. But Alex never turned around, never came back, and a minute later John left the Hall himself, heart heavy. There was a girl in a blue dress weeping on the stairs as he passed, her sleek hair starting to curl again. He couldn't bring himself to wonder what happened.  _Me too,_ he just thought. _Me too._

 

  * Herc and Peggy just have a really fun time dancing and enjoying the time spent with all their friends, and at the end of the night Herc walks her to her staircase. 



 

"Thanks for this Herc, really."

He smiled, gesturing elaborately at the stairs that lead up to the girls dormitories. "Your carriage awaits."

Peggy only raised an eyebrow. "You know a real gentleman would walk me to my door."

"Then a real gentleman would end up on his ass as soon as the stairs turned into a slide."

"Dammit. Worth a try."

"You're fucking impossible, Schuyler."

"Why thank you." She grinned, before her face softened. "I mean that, seriously. You didn't have to take me, you could have asked out any girl and be off with them right now getting up to-'

"I think Laf's doing enough of that for all of us. I didn't want to ask any girl, Pegs. I wanted to spend the night with my finds, and it would have been a pretty shitty night if you weren't there too."

For a moment, Peggy looked like she's teetering on the edge of speech. But she only leant up on her tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek. "Nigh, Hercules."

"Good night."

He wasn't sure how long he stood there after she left, but a pointed cough from behind him near frightened Herc out of his skin. He did not squeek, don't be ridiculous, he most definitely turned around with grace and dignity. Hugh was sitting on one of the old armchairs, wearing his pirate pyjamas and a smug grin.

"What?"

 

  * Maybe it’s a good think that John has to spend so much time desperately trying to work out the clue to the second task, because it allows him to avoid Alex, and the weird way his best friend is suddenly treating him. The two have been tiptoeing around each other since Christmas, and Laf is half tempted to run a betting pool on when they’ll stop being idiots and admit the incredibly obvious feelings they have for each other. Angelica might be the only reason he hasn’t. Alex, meanwhile, isn’t so much having an I’m-in-love-with-a-boy freak out, as he’s having an I’m-in-love-with-my-best-friend one - The thought of pushing John away is enough to make Alex clamp down on any desire to kiss those stupid grins of his face. John is his friend, possibly the best thing in his life, and that will have to be enough.



 

  * The second task is on them, all too quickly, and John has worked out that he needs to breathe underwater, but not how the hell he’s going to do it.



 

Despite Alex’s promise that they’d find a solution, John was beginning to think that there simply wasn't one. They’d been through seemingly every book in the library, and found absolutely nothing on anything that could help him breathe underwater for an hour. He was either going to drown, or embarrass himself in front of the whole school, or both tomorrow, and he was nothing but glum as he made his way up to Gryffindor tower with Herc and Laf. They’d been in the library all day until finally they’d been kicked out, and there didn't seem to be anything they could do. And his friends were hardly being helpful.

“Maybe you could become an animagus. Turn into a shark or something.”

“Or make all the water in the lake vanish.”

“Or how about-“

“Guys,” John interrupted, coming to a stop outside the portrait whole and running a hand wearily across his face. “I appreciate you trying to help, but unless anyone has any actually feasible suggestions, I’m screwed. I’m just gonna have to go to the judges tomorrow morning and tell them I’ve failed.”

“John, no!” Laf gasped. 

“Yeah, you can’t give up now.”

“Quite right, my boys. Fight until the end and never surrender is what I always say.” They turned to see Von Steuben striding towards them, robes billowing outwards. John groaned internally at the sight of his head of house, ready for a dressing down for being out past curfew but his head of house only smiled at him. “I trust you’ll do Gryffindoor proud tomorrow, Laurens?”

“Yes, sir.” John mumbled. 

“Excellent. Now, why did I need to speak to you again? Oh yes, mister Lafayette, you are needed in the headmaster’s study at once.”

Laf frowned. “Washington wants to see me now? Why?”

“I’m sure I don’t know. But you’d better find out.”

“Yes sir.” Laf said with a nod, before turning back to the others. “You’ll have thought of something awesome by the time I get back, I am sure. I’d better go see what George wants.”

Lafayette, John thought with some amusement, was possibly the only pupil in the school who could get away with calling Professor Washington _George_. The boy shot them a reassuring smile, then followed Von Steuben out of the library.

 

 

  * When Laf doesn’t come back, the two eventually go to bed and to cheer John up, Herc starts rambling about one of those invisible ink spy pens Theo bought him, and John suddenly realises he doesn’t need a magical solution at all, seeing as summoning what he needed worked so well last time. And the next morning he stands on the edge of the Black Lake, summons an oxygen tank and diving kit, and wonders why wizards never bother to think of these things.



 

  * Of course, he’s a lot less cheerful when he gets down to the bottom of the lake and finds out just what the hostages are. Or who they are, rather.



 

 

Had it been possible around the plastic in his mouth, John would have let out a gasp of horror. Because the treasures weren't objects at all. They were people. 

The three of them hung suspended in a row, feet tethered to a chain, and in the gloomy blue light of the lake they might as well have been ghosts. One chain was already empty, lying on the sand below, but the others…

Maria Reynolds; hair was fanned out all around her in a horrible mockery of a halo. She looked younger, somehow, without the lipstick the staff had given up trying to get her to remove. Next to her, Laf could have been sleeping except that the french boy had never been so still in his life. And on his right, was Alex.

Alex looking smaller than than his friend had any right to be, and for all the world like he wasn’t breathing.

John’s heart constricted. What kind of sick game was this, kidnapping his friends and forcing him to rescue them for the sake of some stupid competition? It was a stupid, cruel risk and he couldn’t understand how anyone had possibly agreed to this. What the hell was Washington playing at? Later, he told himself. Later you can scream and rage all you want. Right now, why not focus on trying to get your friends out of this alive?

He kicked his legs in the direction of the hostages, close enough to grab Alex’s wrist. His skin was cold to the touch, but after a few moments of blind terror John could make out the steady thrum of a pulse.

 

 

  * Everyone reduces their hostage, and there’s a lot to process after the task. Alex needs to get his head around the fact that he is somehow the thing John would miss most, and does that mean John likes him back? We’re talking tragic levels of pining and obliviousness here, including constant whining to an Aaron who never wants to hear about this again and a Theo who is enjoying herself far too much. John’s just replying how scared he was to see Alex so helpless like that, and the way Alex had clutched his hand as they climbed from the lake. 



 

  * The closer it gets to the final task, the more John Laurens suddenly wants to spend time with his son, and John happily tells anyone who’ll listen that maybe he’s finally done enough to make his father proud. Contrast with Aaron who’s wondering if he’ll be able to spend another whole summer away from home, and realising how much he’s come to rely on Theo.



 

  * Angelica and Peggy finally find out how scared Eliza has been for the last two years. Angelica realises that it’s always been her job to protect her sisters, and that she’s been doing a pretty terrible job. She hasn’t of course, but there’s pliantly of guilt to go around, and they all promise to learn to lean on each-other when they have a problem. Of course, this is the time that Peggy chooses to raise the problem that Alfie’s a teenager himself now and she could do with some help when he gets grumpy. Brilliant. They laugh, and Angelica dares to think that maybe everything will be okay. It’s only later that she will reflect on how wrong she was.



 

  * The night before the last task, and all the Gryffindors camp out in the common-room, swapping jokes and generally just being happy. Treasure this moment, because it’s the last time they’ll all be truly happy for a long time. Laf announces that he and Adrienne are going to keep on seeing each other over the summer, and quickly turns the conversation in the direction of John’s love-life, AKA the worst kept secret in the school. John smiles sheepishly, and promises that if he wins tomorrow, he’ll ask Alex out in front of the entire school, in front of his father, in front of anyone who wants to tell him he can’t and damn with the consequences. The next morning, everyone goes to get their seats, and Alex walks John down to the champions’ tent.



 

“What is it?” John laughed, trying not to let his nervousness show. “You here to tell me to bring it home for Hogwarts or something?”

“No.” And there was such a seriousness in that one syllable that John looked at Alex, really looked at him. The boy just as anxious as John felt, but there was a spark of that Hamilton intensity behind his eye. “I don’t give a crap about that. I’m here to tell you to be careful, okay? I’ve got a bad feeling about this one.”

“I’ve fought a dragon and you’re worried about me walking around a maze?”

“I’m serious, John. Just promise me you’ll be careful.”

John opened his mouth to make another joke, then realised how deadly earnest Alex was and instead said “I promise. I’ll be fine, I always am.”

“I know.” Alex complained. “It’s really annoying, that. You never seem to learn your lesson.”

They had reached the edge of the champions’ tent, where they’d have to part ways. John wouldn't see Alex again until it was all over. It was an only reassuring thought that went a long way to calm the jangling nerves in his stomach. The next time Alex smiled at him like that, this would all be behind him. Still, he couldn't quite bring himself to go inside and say goodbye to his friend just yet.

“Kick it in the ass for me, yeah?” Alex said. “Whatever it is.”

“It won’t know what hit it.” John agreed. “John Laurens speciality ass-kicking coming up.”

“You’re such an idiot, John Laurens.” Alex laughed. 

And John didn't know whether it was the adrenalin already pumping through his veins or the way Alex said John Laurens like he was the only one that mattered in the whole world, but he found himself leaning closer to his friend. Alex noticed, golden eyes widening in surprise, and John was about to pull away with an apology and a laugh. But Alex didn't give him the chance.

Alexander Hamilton, as it turned out, kissed the way he did almost everything else in his life. With a strange intensity that would seem out of place if it was coming from anyone other than him. John’s breath caught in his throat as their lips collided, and he barely had time to process the whirl of thoughts that sounded something like _holyshitAlexiskissingmeAlexfsoftwarmfAlex_ before the boy pulled away.

John, for once lost for words, just stared at him.

“Seriously? You’re doing this fucking now?”

“For luck.” Alex clarified with a sheepish smile. He rubbed the back of his neck, averting his eyes, and John that Alex thought he was rejecting him, or angry about the kiss. As if that hadn’t been everything John had spent the last two years convincing himself he would never have. As if Alex could be anything other than everything to him. The thought was ridiculous, but so was the boy that he had fallen madly in love with.

In love with.

The thought came to him unbidden, and John couldn’t help but imagine it warming him from the inside out, banishing the fear to the furthest reaches of his mind. He wouldn’t say it now, not when Alex was looking at him with terrified eyes and he he was about to go face Merlin only knows what, but he would hold the words close to his heart. For now, he only took Alex’s hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.

“So if that’s for luck, what do I get when I win?”

Alex laughed, in surprise if nothing else, but he squeezed John’s hand back. “Get going, Champion. I’ll see you on the other side.”

 

 

  * The maze progress pretty much how it does in Harry Potter, and John and Reynolds end up racing each other for the cup.`



 

Their eyes met. John looked at Reynolds, to the blue pool of light, seemingly growing more distant by the second that could only mean the cup, and then back at him. For a moment, neither boy moved. And then Reynolds was running, sprinting away down the narrow passage. John cursed and followed him, trainers pounding against the dirt under his feet. This was his quiditch pitch, where he belonged, the ground which he had collided with hard more than once and which he had landed on triumphantly after every victory. He sure as hell wasn't going to give up this victory now. 

As the two boys ran, the bushes on either side seemed to come alive. Gnarled roots snaked out underfoot, vines and thorns twisting out towards them. John kept running, forcing his way past the plants and dodging past their attempts to ensnare him. _Faster,_ he urged himself, _just a little bit faster._ The glow of the cup was clear up ahead now, a beacon lighting his way in the growing darkness. In the end, this was what the tournament came down to. Not superior spell work or greater magical knowledge, but this primitive game of muscle and nerve. 

Up ahead, Reynolds tripped on a root. He went down hard, crashing into the dirt and John barely broke stride as he leapt over the 6th year and carried on running. Any seventh year might my done for, the muscled ideal of a champion to big and bulky to get through. But John was only fifteen, and fast when he wanted to be, and a Laurens to boot. He could do this _Just a bit further…_ Over the pounding of his heart and ragged breath John heard Reynolds yelling out behind him, but he didn't look back to see if it was anger or fear. He had come to far to look back now.

The cup was his for the taking. He paused for a moment to imagine the look on his friends’ faces as he carried it out of the maze, victorious, and to wonder if maybe this time the kiss from Alex wouldn't just be for luck, and then there was nothing to do but reach out and take it. John was expecting the feeling of pride and triumph. He wasn't expecting the sudden jerking feeling as his feet left the ground, nor that the world would suddenly be plunged into darkness.

-

 

John got to his feet shakily, and looked around. He had no idea where he was, except that he was alone in the darkness and this definitely hadn't been part of the deal. He cast the cup to one side ( _portkey_ , the cup was a _portkey_ , his mind provided) and pulled out his want gingerly. He seemed to be in some sort of graveyard. This wasn't good, this was whatever the opposite of good was, and John had no idea how to get back to his friends. He shivered in the night air, wishing he wasn't alone - right now he’d take even Reynolds’ company over this.

Or maybe he wasn't alone. The noise of a twig snapping behind him caused John to whirl around, but he was too late to see the figure advancing on him. He raised his want, only to have it fly out of his hands, and a second later he was pinned against the cemetery arch by an invisible force. He craned his head upwards, enough to see the words _Combahee River Cemetery_ engraved over the archway, before looking back at the figure approaching him. John struggled uselessly against his restraints, but a moment later the man drew close enough to see his face, and John froze in disbelief.

“ _Dad_?

Henry Laurens was dressed all in black, his face pale in the moonlight. He seemed as shocked as John was, but the expression quickly gave way to the neutral mask he knew so well.

“Jack.”

“What what the _fuck_ is going on? Where are we? What-“

The rest of the word was lost in a chocking sound as, by a flick of his father’s wand, John suddenly found himself unable to speak. Henry regarded him with something that was almost pride. If John could speak, he would have unleashed every curse he knew, magical or otherwise. But all he could do was watch through terrified eyes as his father rummaged around in his cloak and drew out his wand. John’s fingers itched for his own, lying useless in the grass somewhere, but he’d always been terrible at non-verbal magic.

“I’m sorry it had to come to this, Jack. If it’s any comfort, your sacrifice will pave the way for a greatness to rise again. They’ll tell stories of your bravery one day.” He smiled softly, a hand tracing his, and John could do nothing to jerk away from the man he was suddenly sure he’d never really know. “I’m so proud of you, my son.”

More figures emerged out of the darkness, each dressed in black with masks covering their faces. John struggled uselessly at his invisible bonds, succeeding only in cutting gashes into the front of his jumper. 

“Blood of our Lord,” Henry intoned in a low voice, and at once John knew what was about to happen. All along, they had been right about his father. Everything John had never wanted to see in him was true. “ _No_!” he wanted to scream, but he could do nothing but sit and wait for it to happen. His heart was pounding against his ribcage as if desperate to escape and the sound of blood thundered in his ears.

“Blood of our Lord, flow once again.”

John wanted to close his eyes and take some tiny fragment of comfort in the darkness before the ned came. He didn't want to see the moonlight glinting off the polished wood as Henry raised it higher. But he was nothing if not a Gryffindor. That had been his first real act of rebellion against the man standing in front of him, to put on a scarlet tie and wear it with pride, and right now it was the only thing left to him. He couldn’t fight, he couldn’t run, he could do nothing to stop what was about to happen, but he could do this much. So John kept his eyes open determined to stare down his father for as long as it took.

Let these monsters determine how he was killed. John Laurens would decide how he died.

“Blood of our Lord, flow once again.”

 _I’m sorry,_ John said silently, thinking about all his friends at Hogwarts and the darkness about to come their way. The darkness he should have seen coming. _I’m sorry I can’t warn you about what’s going to happen. I’m sorry I won’t be there to join the fight. I always did love a good fight._

“Blood of our Lord.”

He raised the wand high, and for one, endless moment before he moved, Henry Lauren’s face might have shown a hint of regret for what he was about to do. But not nearly enough to stay his hand. _Accio wand_ , John thought desperately, but he knew it was no good.

_Herc, look after the others. They’re going to need you._

Words forming on his fathers lips, the all too familiar incantation that only meant one thing.

_Laf, stay strong, and never fucking change._

Henry’s voice ringing out around the graveyard, loud and clear and full of intent.

_Alex, I…_

_Alex_. Who was synonymous with warmth and friendship and good things. Who had never held the months John wasted hating him against him, who had survived more with a smile on his face than most people could ever imagine. Who didn't sleep enough and loved christmas and who's lips tasted of home. Alex, to whom John had failed to keep his promise.

Alex, who he had never said those stupid words to.

A flash of green light filled his vision.

_Alexander, I’m so sorry._

-

 

John Laurens was buried on a Tuesday. The sky was a brilliant blue, reflecting in the water of the school lake and it just felt wrong. The day was too perfect, too much like the start of the summer they’d been planing. It was as if the weather itself was mocking them.

Eliza had stood beside her sisters and hadn't even had the heart to stop the tears that fell freely down her cheeks. Angelica too was crying but Peggy just stared stoically ahead, and Eliza honestly couldn't say which was worse. 

She couldn't bare to look at John’s father as he gave the eulogy. She knew they’d had their differences over the year but the man had just lost his son. It had been Henry Laurens who found the body, they’d later been told. A search party had been formed after John didn't come back from the maze and people started to realise something had gone horribly, horribly wrong. She couldn't imagine what that had been like for him, to find John… She swallowed, and a few more tears sunk out. _You poor man._ No matter all the shit he’d put John through, no one deserved that.

She didn't miss the fact that Alex wasn't here, his seat standing empty and accusing at the end of the row. 

“What are we going to do now?” Peggy asked sometime later, breaking the silence. The five of them were sitting at the Ravenclaw table, because Herc and Laf couldn't face sitting at their own right now, staring at the supper no one was going to eat. 

Eliza glanced up in surprise. “Do? What is there to do? John’s-“

She didn’t get to the end of her sentence, words ending in a strangled choke, and Laf took her hand. 

“There’s everything to do.” Peggy argued. “This wasn’t some freak accident, I know you guys don’t believe that. Our friend was murdered, and this is only the beginning.”

“We were right.” said Herc softly. “It’s the King.”

No one spoke, and Eliza felt the hairs on her neck stand on end. All this time, and a part of her had still believed that somehow they were wrong and the gathering darkness would pass. And look where that had got them. A war on their doorstep, and a gaping silence where her friend should be sitting.  She, more than anyone else should have seen this coming. But she had ignored the nightmares, the years of waking up in cold sweat with a sickly-sweet voice whispering in her ear and searching for the blood that might as well be caked under her nails. Eliza has ignored the signs, and John had paid the price.

Yet again, she had been useless, helpless, and his death ( _oh God, he’s really bloody gone_ ) was on her.

A wave of grief washed over her without any warning, and for a moment Eliza was sure she would somehow drown in it. It was a tempting prospect, the idea of just giving up and letting herself float adrift. Instead, she took Angelica’s hand on the table top. 

“What we do,” she said, noticing with a flicker of something that might even have been pride that her voice wasn't shaking, “Is we fight.”

-

Lafayette hadn't seen Alex in two days. Aaron said he was spending most of the time pretending to be asleep, or up on the battlements of the castle. And then had forbidden Laf from sneaking into the Slytherin dorms to confront him.

“He needs space. Can you please give him that?”

“But I only want-“

“Yeah.” Aaron had sighed. “Me too. In the mean time, you have your own house to look out for.”

There was no denying that was true. Alex may have loved John, but he had been theirs, a Gryffindor, and the whole tower was in a state of shock. Peggy’s tough act had lasted a whole day before she crumpled, sobbing into Herc’s arms. For their part, the two boys were sleeping in the common room (if you could call the nightly ritual of staring up at the ceiling, slipping into nightmares and taking it in turns to hold the other while they screamed sleeping, that was.) They didn't have the heart to face John’s empty, accusing bunk yet.

So Laf didn't push Alex, no matter how much his heart was broken by his friend’s absence. He held on tight to house and promised himself they would get through this, somehow. 

They were going home tomorrow, the steam train arriving to take them away from this place. He couldn't stand the thought of gong back to France any more than he could stand the thought of staying. Thomas and Adrienne were trying, but they hadn't known John, there was no way they could understand the silence left in his absence. Thomas had even tried asking, uncharacteristically gently, if maybe it would be best to stay at home next year, or join them in Beauxbatons.

There was no way they could understand, so there was no way Laf could explain that he couldn't do that. There was something out there, dark and dangerous and coming for them all, and when it arrived this was where he needed to be.

 

  * Alex is not dealing with John's death at all well. He doesn't cry, not until the morning they're due to get the train home. He goes down to John's grave (he's buried by the lake, and it's so unfairly beautiful) and places a single rose on the earth. He searches for something he could possibly say and can't think of a single thing that would do all that John Laurens had been justice. He looks out over the lake again, and realises that this is the spot that John told him he'd never be a monster, and Alex begged him to kill him, if it came to it. Stupid, really, but that's what finally lets the tears flow. And when he's all empty, when the last sob has been wrung out of him, Alex turns away and walks back up to the school.



 

 

 


	15. Chapter 15

Year 5 (AKA the prisoner really needs to go back to Azkaban)

 

  * Alex barely spends a week at the orphanage that summer before Philip Schuyler physically turns up on the doorstep and insists Alex come and stay with them. He’s grown far too accustomed to grief over the years, and knows that it’s best faced together. Unsurprisingly, it’s a fairly subdued holiday. Herc is around a lot, growing ever closer to Peggy, and Eliza is slowly coming up with a plan. If there’s a war coming, the ones she loves are going to be ready to fight. They lost John, and she'll be damned if they loose anyone else. 



 

  * It’s on the last night that Philip finds Alex standing by the enchanted door and staring out over an oblivious American street. He’s reminded forcefully of the twelve year old who once had done the same, and just like he had then, he brings Alex into the kitchen and makes him tea. “How do you do it?” Alex asks eventually, and he doesn’t have to explain. The look on his face is the same one Philip used to see in the mirror in the days after his wife died. “You just live.”



 

  * The Schuyler’s get to work as soon as everyone meets up on the train. It takes a bit of effort to pry Aaron away from some older Slytherins who are trying to talk to him again, but soon enough they’re all cramped into a compartment and the sisters explain their plan. There’s a darkness out there somewhere, and they’ll do their best to find out what it is, and in the meantime they’re going to get ready to fight. Angelica knows about the Room of Requirement because of course she does, and they decide to train there as much as possible. 



 

  * No one is particularly paying attention to the sorting until Washington announces they have a transfer from Beaxbattons joining the Fifth Year. Of course it’s Jefferson, complete with ridiculous dramatic entrance as he opens the doors and struts the entire length of the hall to be sorted. He’s put into Slytherin, slides onto the bench next to Alex with a wink, and Alex just groans. As if this year wasn’t going to be crappy enough, this asshole is back.



 

  * There’s also a new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher sent from the Ministry, and this Professor Adams guy looks like a right asshole.



 

  * Alex and Thomas pretty much spend the entire year a hair’s breath from killing each other, with Aaron as a reluctant mitigator. The biggest challenges are stopping Thomas finding out about the Rebellion (they spent a week trading names before deciding to keep it simple), especially as Laf and Madison are his best friends, and stoping Alex hexing him using the new curses they’ve learnt. And they’ve learnt a lot.



 

  * There’s no real leader to the group. Eliza and Laf handle physical training, Angelica and Herc take more of a lead on spellwork, and Alex and Theo have a different job entirely. It was Herc’s idea, to use as much muggle stuff as possible to help them sneak around undetected. Alex thinks back to that ridiculous diving suit John had summoned for the second task, and agrees instantly. It’s a good project to keep his mind off things and the two of them (helped by Aaron who has now spent two summers in the muggle world) soon have all sorts of ideas. Invisible and erasable ink pens for communication, snappers for diversions, stacks of pounds and first aid kits in case of emergencies. This stuff can never be traced back to them, and it feels good to use what the Mad King so fears against him. They even have phones, incredibly old bricks that are so low tech they even work around Hogwarts to send texts about the meetings, which no pure blood has a hope of understanding how they work.



 

  * Herc and Peggy start dating to the surprise of absolutely no one. He jokingly asks Angelica, who he's gotten quite close to in running the Revolution, if she's going  to give him the _hurt-my-sister-and-you're-dead_ talk, and she just smiles. The next week, they seem to learn a lot of hexes aimed at the testicles, and he tries desperately not to read anything into it.



 

  * Alex having dreams about the hurricane again, only this time JJ isn’t a child, but his twenty-year old self, still begging for Alex to come and save him. He tries his best to convince himself it’s just his subconscious, but it’s bloody difficult to ignore. He wasn’t able to save one person he loved, and it’s horrifying to think he might fail someone else. ( _Loved_. The word sticks painfully in the back of his throat, and he wonders if it would hurt less if it wasn't true.)



 

  * In response, Alex throws himself back into training with vigour. He swaps nightmares with Eliza, and she’s not happy with the way he’s burying himself in training and schoolwork because it’s exactly what she did two years ago, but doesn’t know what else to do but help him. (“Alex, are you okay?” “I have so much work to do.”)



 

  * Washington takes a leave of absence to try and work out what the Mad King is up to, and the Ministry orders that Adams take his place… Welcome, folks, to the Adams administration! It’s about as terrible as you’d imagine, with Adams desperately trying to work out where so many students sneak off to and what they’re hiding. To make matters worse, Thomas finds out about the Revolution. It was bound to happen eventually, but he’s close to Adams, and Alex is sure this is the end of all they’re working towards.



 

  * Thomas has to decide whether or not to reveal the Revolution, and Lafayette, Madison and Angelica all go separately to try and convince him to keep quiet. Laf talks about the darkness they’re fighting against, Angelica does a fairly substantial job of threatening him (all the while terrified for her sisters) and Madison simply asks him to put his friendships above status and duty for once in his life. It’s not clear which one got through to him, but he doesn’t say a word. He doesn’t exactly join them, either, but baby steps. 



 

  * They decide to work on patronus charms in the Revolution, as much of a way to cheer everyone up as to learn how to defend against dementors. Some come easier than others, although amazingly Peggy manages to produce a full corporal one first. It’s an unnecessarily huge dragon that reminds her closet friends that bit too much of Alfie. Herc watches the girl who looks every bit as terrifying as the monster protecting her, and for the first time thinks “Holy fuck, I’m going to marry this girl.” (He may or not spend the next few days irrationally terrified that Angelica is a secret Legilimens, heard his thoughts, and is coming to kill him.)



 

  * Most other people manage a patronus over the Easter term. Angelica’s is a sleek fox, Eliza’s a silver doe, Laf’s a swan, and Herc’s a mountain lion, which he gets a lot of ribbing for. Aaron also ends up producing the emblem of his house, but his viper is a lot less welcome than Herc’s lion. Some of the more prejudiced members suggest they shouldn’t have Slytherins in the group, and Aaron wonders if he’ll ever shake the signs that he should be on the other side of this fight. Theo just sends her silver honey bee to fly around his head, and tells him he’s an idiot.



 

  * Alex… is struggling. He’s good at magic, honestly, and it takes him far too long to realise why he can’t produce a patronus. Whenever he tries to come up with a good memory his thoughts automatically fly to John, and every one of those is tinged with sadness now. 



 

  * Henry Laurens asks to meet with him over the Easter break. It’s supposedly to find out how John’s closest friends are holding up and share memories of his son, but he’s really just there to make sure that no one suspects John was murdered. Angelica and Eliza go with Alex to meet him for moral support, and the two come away far too suspicious. Henry keeps talking about ‘the accident’ and is too focused on blaming the school for hosting such a dangerous competition than trading memories of his son. Alex doesn’t notice, and they decide to keep it to themselves for now instead of upsetting him further. 



 

  * Adams puts Theo in detention for swearing, but everyone knows he’s trying to find out where the Revolution is meeting. She comes back with blood dripping from her hand, the words _I must not say fuck_ carved into the skin - he wanted her to write _I will not swear_ , but after the first cut she decided that if she was going to get a scar, it should have the word _fuck_ in it. Aaron is furious, and Laf and Herc decide that he needs to be pranked into oblivion as payback. The two of them outshine the Weasley twins, pulling a combination of magical and wizarding stunts that assures the blame will never make its way back to them. 



 

  * Alex goes to bed that night laughing at the memory of Adams fighting off his own enchanted cloak, and has a dream about JJ that’s worse than all the others. Their father is torturing him, demanding he join the mad king. He wakes up to find an owl at the foot of his bead, a post-card in its mouth. JJ never sends postcards, or anything that might tell Alex where they are, but this one is a picture of Parliament, and on the back it simply says _help_. 



 

  * He’s all for flying off on his own, but Aaron, in a repeat of two years previously, doesn’t let him. Instead, he sends a group text to everyone, and they all fly down to London on brooms. Peggy’s all for riding Alfie, but Herc persuades her that a dragon in the middle of London might be a bit conspicuous. “Next time,” she mutters.



 

  * James Hamilton is out of patience. He’s spent two years trying to convince his fool of a son that the King’s way is the only way they can mean something in this world, and he’d been hoping that James Jn. would finally see sense. No such luck, and he’s done playing nice. His son will join him, or he’ll die, and James will go and see if his younger brother is any smarter. They’re camped out on the roofs of parliament, because James is a dramatic fucker and he likes the irony of walking above this building that the King will one day raze to the ground. 



 

  * He’s just about to start another round of crucios on JJ when Alex and his friends show up. There are a lot more of them than there are of James, but he’s a hardened murderer while they, for all the time they’ve spent training, are just children. What’s more, he’s using JJ as a shield. 



 

  * The fight doesn’t last long, because it attracts a heck of a lot of attention. That would be great, seeing as their aim was to catch James, but the ones looking for him are dementors, still trying to return him to Azkaban after two years, and they don’t care much who gets in their way. It’s a good thing that the gang learnt how to cast patronus charms.



 

  * As everyone fights of the dementors as best they can, Alex crawls his way to JJ. His brother is badly hurt but alive, and he clasps Alex’s hand and tells him that he’s so fucking proud of his baby brother. A dementor comes for them. JJ never learnt to cast a patronus, Alex has never been able to, but right now that doesn’t matter. It’s not about finding that one happy memory, he realises, it’s about surrounding yourself in the way that memory makes you feel. It’s about using that feeling as your strength and crafting it into a shield that will not be broken. He thinks of the way JJ had always protected him from afar, how his friends were willing to risk their lives to come with him tonight, how John had smiled softly as he said _“I know evil, and you are not it.”_ And that’s enough. A tomcat comes roaring out of Alex’s wand to protect both brothers from harm.



 

  * The dementors arrest James and take him back to Azkaban, and everyone is kind of okay. Alex has a broken arm from being blasted backwards by his father, and Peggy has a cut on her forehead that’s probably going to scar, but what matters is that they’re  alive. They make it back to school before sunrise, Adams never knows that they were gone, and when Washington mysteriously returns a week later, he only quietly commends Alex on his long distance flying. How he knows what they did, Alex never finds out.



 

  * The school year ends, and JJ is waiting for Alex on the train platform. He’s wearing muggle clothing, has had a haircut and looks for all the world as if he’s just a normal guy. He asks, looking more nervous than a guy living on the run has any right to be, if Alex has changed his mind over the last two years, or if he still wants to come and live with him. His flat’s not that big, he explains, not that fancy or- JJ doesn’t get to finish before Alex cuts him off with a hug and says “Let’s go.”



 

  * Aaron is standing a little bit away, watching the proceedings with a sad smile. Alex notices and asks if he wants to come and live with them over the summer like he’d promised in the third year, but Aaron shakes his head and says he’s going camping with Theo.



 

  * It’s a lie. He told Theo he was staying with Alex. He’s a Burr, and he’s been putting off going home long enough. He’ll never be like them, but he can’t run away from his family any more. And if they’re as involved in the return of the Mad King as he fears they are, someone needs to find out what they’re up to. Who better than the prodigal son, the boy so much a Slytherin that his patronus is a snake?




	16. Chapter 16

Year 6 - No punny title here, things are getting real. 

 

  * There’s no escaping the fact that the war has really started now. Even Alex and JJ, living in muggle London and trying their best to learn how to behave around each other are aware of the attacks, sightings of dementors and general misery that surrounds the country. Alex visits Ned, who’s fifteen and old enough to seek into a pub with the fake IDs Alex transfigured, and the war hasn’t gone unnoticed by the muggles, either. They think it’s terrorists or something, but he’s afraid.



 

  * The two of them get fairly drunk, Alex stumbles back at about two in the morning, and JJ has absolutely no idea how to deal with this. He’s angry, but he hates the fact that he’s angry because he was scared Alex had gotten himself hurt rather angry that he was doing normal rebellious teenage things, and hates that this is the world his little brother is growing up into. The two aren’t sure how to behave around each other at the best of times, they both have plenty of their own nightmares, but they’re honestly trying to make it work as best they can.



 

  * Over at the Schuylers, and the sisters are putting together the next years training course along with Herc who’s there visiting Peggy. Philip finds out, and has pretty much the same thought process as JJ did, but decides he might as well help his girls if they’ve already made up their minds to fight. He does take Angelica aside though, and tell her to look after her sisters. Herc hears, and makes sure to shoot her a kind smile. He knows the pressure and the fear of having a little sibling to look after, especially when he knows he’s not going to be able to keep Hugh out of this fight.



 

  * Over at the Burr mansion, and things are a lot less fun. It’s fairly ambiguous how Aaron, who’s dressed all in black and keeping his face a neutral mask of marble, is feeling, but he barely flinches as they apply the ink to his forearm. When it’s over, he’s left alone to stare at his new tattoo and wonder what the hell he’s doing.



 

  * It’s the last weekend before they go back to school, and Alex goes to say goodbye to Ned. Ned asks about his broken arm (finally out of its sling), something he hasn’t done all summer, and Alex suddenly realises that he may not ever see his friend again. He doesn’t know what will happen this year, or if there will even be a London to come back to. And if he hugs Ned that bit too tight when he leaves, Ned doesn’t comment on it.



 

  * School hits them like a freight train when they return - the NEWT workload is significantly harder than OWLs and it’s an effort just to keep up, never mind training. Alex is grateful for the distraction and the fact he barely has time to think, but Eliza’s concerned that they won’t be ready when everything falls apart. There are more disappearances in the papers every day, and that sound of a laugh in her head never quite leaves her. 



 

  * Aaron, yet again is acting strange, splitting his time between a group of seventh year Slytherins who can only be described as assholes and his friends, but only when no one else is watching. He insists on wearing long sleeves, even though the autumn is unnaturally warm, and if Alex were less bogged down in all the extra subjects he was taking he might notice that Aaron never changes in their dorm anymore. 



 

  * Theo eventually corners him about it, and refuses to accept bullshit excuses like  _“You wouldn’t understand,”_ and “ _You have no idea how hard this is for me,_ ” and the like. She’s his friend, and although she’d never admit it to a soul he’s come to mean more than that to her over the years, and she deserves more than to just be shut out. To her astonishment he agrees, drags her into a cupboard, and shows her the dark mark emblazoned across his skin. 



 

  * She freaks, quite understandably, and it’s with her wand jammed under his chin that Aaron explains he’s only trying to find out what’s happening and make them believe he’s on the King’s side. She’s not sure whether or not to believe him, and despite being held at wand point by the most dangerous witch he knows, Aaron only manages a soft smile. “They’re going after people like you, Theo. These bastards would see you dead.” he says softly. “Do you think for one second I’d be a part of that?” She reluctantly agrees not to tell anyone.



 

  * Aaron may have an inside ear to the death eaters, but even he doesn’t know what to make of the rumours flying around the school. People whisper of the Half Blood Prince, some grand fancy prophecy. There’s disagreements about whether the Prince will kill the Mad King, or rise up and take his place, or even be the key to his survival, but it’s all anyone can talk about. It’s probably a load of bollocks, Angelica tells Peggy as they feed Alfie one night, but she can’t help but wonder…



 

  * The team start learning apparition which is a fun break from all the darkness, not to mention extremely useful for their upcoming plans. Alex still prefers flying, but there’s no denying it’s damned cool when he manages the first time.



 

  * Washington is increasingly absent from school, and Lafayette explains that he was a general once, and that he’s probably marshalling all the soldiers can for the up-coming war. For some reason, this seems to make everything feel that little more closer to home.



 

  * Christmas comes, and its the first one they’re all spending apart. Philip wants his daughters home, Lafayette needs to go back to France, Alex needs to make sure that JJ is doing alright and Aaron, well, he’s needed back at home for an entirely different reason.



 

  * JJ is okay, as it turns out. He’s still listening to the radio obsessively and practicing his own concoctions of jinxes in back alleys, but he’s started attending night classes at the local muggle college. He may have missed out on his magical education, but there’s no reason he can’t do something with his life. Alex listens to him talk with an embarrassed smile about the catering corse he’s doing, and couldn’t be more proud. It doesn’t hurt that the Christmas dinner he makes, though small, is amazing. It's a funny, quiet kind of Christmas, but they’re honest to God happy, which is something of a miracle.



 

  * It’s difficult to ignore the air of finality in the Schuyler household that holiday. The girls are too young to remember, but Philip can’t help but think  about the last Christmas he spent with Kat, trying so hard to make it happy when they knew she wouldn’t make it to next year. It’s a terrible thing to think, but he’s suddenly, painfully sure that this is the last Christmas the four of them will spend together. He’s not wrong.



 

  * They keep Christmas itself a family affair, but on New Years Eve he invites Henry Laurens around, aware how hard it must be for him to be on his own over the holidays. The man’s all polite smiles, and Angelica is once again seized by the feeling that something is wrong. Peggy asks their father is he’s ever heard of the Half Blood Price, and Angelica doesn’t miss the way Henry stills for a moment, hand reaching unconsciously towards his wand.



 

  * Some holidays are even worse. Aaron turns up on Theo’s doorstep on Boxing Day, trembling, and covered in blood that may or may not be his own. She takes one look at him and hurries him upstairs before anyone sees. Theo doesn’t ask him what happened. She can guess, and hopes to God Aaron knows what he’s doing. He really, really doesn’t, and he’s terrified. “How far does it go?” he asks her. “How far before I can stop telling myself that I’m doing the right thing?”



 

  * Theo doesn’t know the answer. What she does know is that she’s watching her friend slip through her fingers, and the thought is somehow unacceptable. They’re sitting on her bed, and it’s without thinking that she leans in and kisses him gently. “I know you’re a good man,” she tells him, and wonders if she’s lying. The next day the daily prophet arrives and she puts it straight in the bin, rather than read the story of a massacre splayed across the front page. The whole thing is far too reminiscent of Rachel and James Hamilton, and the mistakes they made all those years ago.



 

  * Neither Theo nor Aaron says a word when they get back to school, but Laf is full of news. Things aren’t quite as bad in France as they are here, but they’re still pretty terrible and getting worse by the day. If they can’t stop him, it’s not going to be Britain that falls to the Mad King. It’s going to be the whole fucking world. 



 

  * Aaron listens and decides he has to keep going, no matter how terrible it is or what they make him do. There’s too much at stake to back out now, even if he could. Maybe he’s always knows deep down, but there might be no way back from this. 



 

  * Hugh Mulligan, meanwhile, is terrified. It’s hard for Herc to remember that his brother’s only a year younger when he looks at him with wide eyes and asks if they’re all going to be okay. He hugs Hugh and promises that as long as he’s around, nothing bad will ever happen to him. It’s a promise he has no idea if he’s going to be able to keep. 



 

  * They wake up one morning, and Aaron simply isn’t there. Lee grumbles and says “Family emergency” when Alex all but breaks down his office door to demand what’s going on, and Theo is sure she knows what that means. He’s out there, definitely in danger and definitely doing something terrible, and Theo can’t keep this to herself anymore. 



 

  * She can’t tell Alex. God how she wants to, especially when he asks her what’s wrong with soft eyes, but she can’t. Alex leans on Aaron more than he realises, and he would be hurt beyond all return. There’s no chance that this boy, who still has nightmares more often than not and goes down to visit John’s grave when he thinks no one can see him, would ever give anyone with a Dark Mark on his skin a chance to explain himself. She can’t tell Eliza either, not with all she’s been through at the hands of the Mad King.



 

  * So it’s Angelica she goes to. It’s a good choice. She’s shocked and tells Theo to be very, _very_ careful, but in a way she understands. Aaron, for all he may have made the wrong decision, is doing it to protect the people he loves and there’s not much she wouldn’t do to do the same. 



 

  * Angelica also realises how useful an ear on the inside could be. Aaron is back two days later with a slight limp and shadows under his eyes, and Angelica takes him aside and tells him to find out about Henry Laurens. It’s not quite blackmail, she tells herself, although the threat to reveal his secret is certainly implied - it’s terrifying, the things good people will do for love.



 

  * Laf’s clearly been shaken since Christmas, but its not until the Easter holidays, when the castle is fuller than it usually is that Herc finds out why he’s been so quiet these last few weeks. It’s something of a shock to realise how little he’s seen his best friend between spending time with Peggy and Revolution training. The two of them sit by the Gryffindor fire one night, carefully not thinking about the John shaped hole that’s still palpable after nearly two years, and Laf tells him that he’s not coming back to Hogwarts next year. The outside world may be horrifying, but the UK is fairly well defended. It’s got Washington and his mysterious army, and it’s going to have half a school full of teenagers who sure as hell shouldn’t have to be soldiers but will fight all the same. France has no-one, and if Adrienne’s letters are anything to be believed the fight for Paris is getting bloodier by the day. He can’t sit here in a while his home burns to the ground. 



 

  * The year progresses, with the definitive feeling that something is going to give, and give soon. They get into the habit of sleeping with their wands under their pillows, and making notes in the margins of the Daily Prophet. Like it or not, they're starting to resemble a proper army. _Soon_ , as it turns out, is a night about three weeks before the end of the year. 



 

Daylight slowly drains from the sky, and even the riot of orange and pink left behind by the sunset is fading into black. The castle, high on it’s hilltop seems to hold its breath, if only for a moment. There’s magic in those stones, a breath of life older than living memory, so maybe it shouldn’t be surprising that they seem to know. Soon enough, there will be no peace to be found anywhere. And so the moment stretches that little bit longer than it should, as if the castle can’t quite bear to let go of those who call it home.

Three small interludes, before the walls come crashing down:

i.

They walk through the trees in silence, and once upon a time, Herc would have been afraid to even set foot in this forest. Every magical child has grown up on the stories of the monsters that lurk in the shadows. Now, he doesn’t even so much as peer into the gloom. There are worse things than monsters lurking out in the darkness of the world, and soon enough he’ll have to face them. What are a few fangs and claws compared to the evil that fills the pages of his morning paper. 

Herc’s not an idiot. He would probably be more worried if he hadn’t befriended the scariest damn thing in these trees. It seems to be an unwritten rule, one he’s not even going to attempt to understand that the children who come her are under the dragon’s protection, and as long as Alfie’s around, they’re off limits. What’s more, he’s and h Peggy. She’s the expert on all things magical and hairy if she’s not afraid to walk through the woods at nightfall, then Herc shouldn’t be either. Or maybe it’s just that he could never imagine being scared when he’s with her.

“What?” she asks, nose crinkling, and he realises that he’s staring at her.

“Nothing.”

“It’s never nothing,” 

“You’ve got dragon slobber on your face,” he says, purely to hear her surprised snort of laughter. 

“You’re an idiot.”

“And yet who’s the one dating this idiot?”

He half expects her to stick her tongue out, or punch him on the arm. What Herc isn’t expecting is for Peggy to slip her hand into his and squeeze it as if afraid to let go.

“Pegs?”

He loves coming down to the forbidden forest with her, and not just because after six years Alfie is still as jaw-droopingly stunning as the day she pulled him out of a satchel. In these trees the stress seems to fall from Peggy’s face and some invisible weight lift from her shoulders. The war feels that bit further away and it’s easy to pretend that they’re just two normal teenagers sneaking off for a snog or feeding a thousand pound dragon. All that normal stuff. For whatever reason, though, it doesn’t seem to be working tonight.

Peggy doesn’t reply for a long time, and when she does, all she says is “Hey Herc? Kiss me?”

He does, with one hand still clutching hers and the other reaching up into her hair. It’s got twigs in it, and her lips are bitten and chapped, and he honestly couldn’t imagine anything more perfect. This won’t solve anything, Herc knows. He can’t kiss her fears away or face down the coming war with the realisation of how terrifyingly much he cares for her. What he can do is hold on. If only for this moment, that’s all they need.

The moment stretches that little bit longer than it should.

 

ii.

Eliza isn’t expecting to find anyone in the room of requirement. She comes here to sit sometimes, when the stories in the paper and the laughter in her head is just too much. This evening is one of those times. It usually takes the form of a cozy living room, or occasionally a quaint muggle tea shop, so she’s surprised when she opens the door to see a smaller version of their training room.

There’s a boy in one corner, steadily firing hexes at a dummy death eater. Eliza doesn’t need to recognise the tangled hair or the green trim of his robes to know who it is.

“Alex?”

He doesn’t hear her. She takes a tentative step forward, wand at the ready to repel any spell misfired in her direction and tries again. “Alex!”

Sure enough, he turns with wide eyes, recognising her that bit too late to stop what looks to be a stinging jinx flying from his wand. She throws up a shield.

“Christ, Eliza, don’t sneak up on me like that!”

“I was hardly sneaking. I yelled at you. Twice.”

“Right. Sorry.” Alex rubs a hand across his face, and moves to unhook the death-eater target. It’s covered in burn marks and gashes.

“How long have you been here?”

“Not that long! I just came up after lunch to see if I could get my _reducto_ sorted, you know I’ve been a bit off this week, I think it’s something to do with the angle that I’m-“

“It’s nearly seven. You missed dinner.”

He frowns at her. “Seriously?”

“You can’t keep doing this.” Eliza knows for a fact that this isn’t the first time he’s locked himself away in here for hours at a time. They’ve hardly seen him this term. “It’s not healthy.”

“Yeah well, neither’s being dead, and that’s what’s going to happen if we’re not ready.”

“Alex!”

“It’s true.”

“You think I don’t know that?”

“I didn’t mean-“

“You think I don’t know exactly what’s out there, and how he’ll smile as he burns the whole damned world to the ground? I get it, Alex, and it’s terrifying, but you’re letting it consume you. You’re no good to anyone if you burn yourself out. And God knows we’ll need you.”

“I just… I can’t do nothing.”

“You can for this evening.” She takes his hand and squeezes it gently. “Take a break, would you?”

He looks at her for a moment, and seems to deflate. “Do I have a choice?”

“Absolutely not. Now come on, let’s get you some food. You’re not missing any more meals on my watch.”

She all but drags him to the kitchen, ignoring Alex’s spluttered protests. It’s not until she presses a hot-chocolate into his hand that he gives up. He smiles softly, fingers wrapping around the mug, and Eliza recognises that expression all too well. It’s the one Alex gets when they watch Gryffindor play quiditch, or when he’s planning on slipping away to the grave by the lake. 

“I miss him too, you know.” she says softly.

“He hated me. And I hated him, for our first term. Do you remember that?”

“How could I forget?” Eliza smiles, despite it all. “You two almost got me expelled! And they you just made up over Christmas like nothing had ever happened.”

“We bumped into each-other in the corridor. And… and we talked. And then he took me to get hot chocolate.” His eyes are far away. “I can’t stop, ‘Liza. Not after what they did to him.”

“I know. But he wouldn’t want you working yourself to the point of exhaustion, either.”

“And you know what he wanted?”  
“I know John loved you. And I know that we all love you as well.”

Alex says nothing. He only slips his hand, warm from the hot chocolate into her. And they sit on the steps outside the kitchen, shoulders leaning against each other in a silence that, if not happy is at least shared.

The moment stretches that little bit longer than it should. 

 

iii.

Theo snuffles a little when she sleeps. It something Aaron has never noticed before, but there’s a half-snort every time she breathes out. He thinks it might be the most beautiful sound in the world.

Light is fast-fading from his dorm room, the sun no longer streaming through half-drawn blinds. It’s quieter than a castle full of teenagers has any right to be, and he’s grateful for it. 

The moment can’t last, of course. He’s already stayed longer than he meant to, but Aaron can’t quite bring himself to look away from the sleeping girl just yet. Her head is tucked against his chest, one hand splayed lazily across him. Even in the fading light, he can make out the faint pink scars on the back of her hand. I will not say fuck. She’s going to carry that for the rest of her life, and sweet Jesus, how he loves her for it.

It takes him far too long to realise that he’s memorising her face.

The call came this morning, a burning pain on his forearm, and he can’t help feel that tonight is going to be a bad one. They’re all bad ones, of course, but this might just be something else. They’re yet to notice that he’s never actually killed anyone while wearing death eater robes, but that doesn’t mean he hasn’t done terrible things. If they’re all standing there watching, participating does it really matter who casts the final blow?

Still, killing someone feels like a line he’s yet to cross, the point of no return. Maybe that’s why he’s staying here and watching Theo sleep for as long as he’s able. 

They’d kill her if they knew. The people who share the mark on Aaron’s skin would blast her aside without a second look, and if they knew what she meant to him, they’d make it hurt. He refuses to allow that to happen, to her or to any of his friends. Gryffindor may have the chivalry, Hufflepuff the loyalty, but there’s a specific brand of allegiance that Slytherin holds true to. They’re better friends than he deserves, and Aaron will do anything to keep them safe from harm. Anything at all. Perhaps that makes him a monster.

There are days when he’s convinced it’s the only human part of him left.

He runs a hand through Theo’s hair, and prays to a God that he doesn’t believe in that there will be enough pieces of them left to put back together when all this is over.

The moment lasts that bit longer than it should, but even that isn’t long enough and it shatters. He carefully extracts himself from the sleeping girl, plants a soft kiss to her forehead, and leaves the room. 

Aaron doesn’t look back. 

 

 

  * Coming back from his night class, JJ’s attacked by a group of death-eaters. He gets away purely from having lived so much of his life in the magical world’s underbelly, and he’s not sure how many he left injured or worse. What JJ does know is that he knocks one of their hoods off, and it’s a face he recognises but never expected to see. Aaron Burr. He doesn’t have time to wonder what the hell Alex’s friend, who he had once offered a home, is doing among such murderous company. He runs.



 

  * Aaron decides he can’t do this anymore. Never mind the fact that he was aiming over JJ’s head, one wrong move and he could have gotten Alex’s brother killed. He goes home to tell his uncle that he’s leaving, and is shocked to see Henry Laurens is among the death eaters waiting for him to  report on the mission in black death-eater robes. _Sweet Jesus, Angelica was right._ He has to tell her.



 

Aaron fumbles for his quill, knocking an ink pot over in the process. It spills out across the table, and he’s slightly too late to pull the parchment out of the way of the spreading black stain. Never mind that now. He glances back at the closed door. If he does this, he’s out and there’s no getting back in. If he’s caught, there’s probably no anything at all. Is telling the world about Henry Laurens truly worth that?

After all he’s done? Absolutely.

He writes quickly, his letters spiked and quill sending out blotches of ink across the already stained parchment. It’s not much, but he hopes Angelica will know what to do from here.

“Aaron?” It’s his uncle calling through the door. “What are you doing in there”

 _Shit_. “Just a minute!” he replies, hoping his voice doesn’t betray the hammering of his heart. Quickly, he folds the parchment up and gestures to his owl. “Take this straight to Angelica Schuyler at Hogwarts. Not to the owlary, not to the normal breakfast post, but straight to her. You got that, ‘Thena?” 

Athena looks at him with orange eyes, and he’ll just have to hope that his owl is as reliable as she’s always been. 

“Aaron?”

“Okay, go.”

He carries her to the window, and she takes flight just as his door bursts open. His uncle looks from his face, to the bird that’s fast disappearing into the night sky.

“What have you done?”

Aaron swallows. “What I had to. I’m done, Uncle, I’m out. I’m not going to be part of this twisted game of yours any more.”

“Game? We are preparing for the ascendency of your king!”

“And I want no more part in it.”

“You don’t know what you’re saying.”

“I’m fairly certain I-“

“No you don’t.” His uncle walks towards him, eyes blazing and wand brandished. “You’ve forgotten what’s at stake here. Perhaps I should remind you. Move, now.”

Aaron can do nothing but obey. His own wand is in the inside pocket of his robes, and there’s no way he can reach it faster than his uncle can curse him. He’s lead down the stairs, and when they get to the ground floor, his uncle only pokes his wand that bit harder into Aaron’s back and says “Keep going.”

The cellar? Aaron thinks wildly. It’s one of the many places in this house, just like the study, that he’s never been allowed to set foot in. Does he want somewhere soundproof to torture me? He honestly has no idea what’s going on here, and none of the possibilities are good. 

The door, made of old oak and iron, is heavy and difficult to open even when unlocked. He finally manages to slide it open, yet his uncle makes no effort to force him inside. Instead, Aaron simply stares into the room. It’s cavernous, and for a moment he can see nothing but inky shadows. Then, aided by the light streaming in from behind them, his eyes adjust. 

And the air is sucked from his lungs.

“Impossible.” He whispers.

“Oh, it’s possible alright.” his uncle hisses in his ear. “Do you get it now, you coward? What’s at stake? What will happen if you try and back out now?”

He nods slowly.

“And are you going to come with us and finish the job? Forget this little insubordination ever happened?”

Aaron’s mind is racing, desperately looking for a way out but he doesn’t have a choice. He stares into the cellar and knows with a chilling certainty that he’s just lost any ability to leave.

“Then let’s go.”

 

 

  * JJ knows he can’t go back to his flat. He can’t fight this darkness, he has tried and failed to hide from it in the muggle world, and the only option left to him is to run. Once upon a time he would have without so much as a backwards glance, but he has a little brother to look after now. Alex should be safe at school but JJ’s suddenly terrified that no-where is safe. 



 

  * Alex has spent his whole school life reviving ominous letters from his brother, and he can’t help but let out a strangled choke of laughter when the last one arrives. _The tallest tower. Midnight._ It’s exactly the same instructions that Peggy sent all those years ago. To think how worried he’d been then, when his biggest fear was getting caught out of bed, and sent away from this world that was so full of wonder. Would he change it, given the chance? Would he throw his Hogwarts letter into the bin and grow up in happy oblivion of the war rolling in on the horizon? Not for anything.



 

  * Angelica is sitting by the window in the Ravenclaw common-room when the owl arrives, and she recognises it immediately as Aaron’s. Why would he be sending her post from somewhere in the castle if-? _Merlin_ , she thinks softly. He’s not here, and if he’s sending her a message from behind the Mad King’s lines, it must be really, really bad. It’s written in a hurried scrawl, words almost illegible but no less chilling.



_Angelica, you were right. Henry Laurens is one of them. We’re coming for the Hamiltons tonight. Tell Theo I’m sorry._

  * She reads it through twice. Then runs from the room, mug crashing onto the floor behind her. 



 

  * Alex is grabbed the moment he makes it up to the tower, unable to do so much as pull out his wand before he’s snatched into the shadows. It’s JJ, holding a hand over his mouth and looking every bit as wild as they night they first met. He explains what happened, leaving out the bit about Aaron for now, and says that they have to run. Alex refuses, saying that he can’t leave his friends behind, and that he’s going to fight in this war.



 

  * They don’t have time to fight about it. The tell-tale cracks of apparition sound from somewhere on the staircase bellow them, and the two brothers look at each other with pure panic. JJ tries to apperate away, seen as the wards are apparently down, but it doesn’t work. From the volume of the footsteps coming ever closer, there are too many of them to take alone. Alex is determined to go down fighting, this is what he’s been training for all year after all, but JJ just looks at him sadly. “Do you trust me?” he asks. “Of course,” Alex replies, “But what-?” He doesn’t get to finish the sentence before the body bind curse hits him. He falls to the floor, immobilised, and can do nothing but watch as JJ pulls the invisibility cloak that wouldn’t hide both of them anymore from Alex’s pocket and lays it over him. 



 

  * So it’s just JJ that the death eaters find at the top of the astronomy tower. He can’t help but laugh when their youngest member is pushed to the front. One of the few acts of kindness he’s managed in his life, and here it is being thrown back in his face. “Go on, Burr,” one hisses in his ear. “Finish the job and prove where your loyalties lie. You know what will happen if you don’t.”



 

  * Aaron knows that Alex is probably invisible and watching, somewhere. He also knows that he has to do this. So it’s to both brothers that he says “I’m sorry,” before firing the first killing curse of his life.



 

  * JJ’s spell on Alex dies about ten minutes after he does. It must be something to do with his specific, self-taught branch of magic that it doesn’t fade immediately, but Alex doesn’t care about any of that. He makes no move to go after the deatheaters, probably long gone by now. He doesn’t try to go after Aaron, who he once considered a brother. He was never his brother, JJ was, and now… He sits on the stone floor, holding a hand that will never squeeze his back, until the dawn comes and his friends find him.



 

  * Theo blames herself. She can barely bring herself to tell Alex that she knew what Aaron was doing, just as he can barely bring himself to say it wasn’t her fault. Angelica, meanwhile, has to tell everyone about the last letter she got from Aaron, and the fact that Henry Laurens killed his own son. They’re not sure if it’s that news, or JJ’s death that makes up Alex’s mind. Either way, he knows what he has to do.



 

“You’re not coming back, are you?”

Alex didn't answer right away, and Eliza didn't expect him to. But he didn't walk away from her, which was something of a relief. Hands deep in his pockets, he stared out over the lake into a an unknowable future. 

“I can’t. Not while the King’s out there, and Laurens, and my father, and…” He can’t quiet bear to say Aaron’s name. “People are dying every damn day, and someone has to find a way to end this.”

“That someone doesn’t have to be you.”

“No.” Alex agreed. “But it is anyway.”

She sighed, and sat down on the grass. Alex sat next to her and she took his hand with a gentle squeeze. “Well you’re not going to find a way to kill the King on your own, now.”

“‘Liza…”

“You think I can come back here either? He’s in my head, Alex, he’s been there since I was thirteen years old, and I want to kill him. I want to be there when we make him pay for every last person he’s touched.” Once, Eliza would have been shocked at the words coming out of her mouth. She’s talking about murder, after all. But that Eliza hadn’t seen the devastation the Mad King left in his wake. 

She hadn’t seen the tears staining Theo’s face, or the near-constant tremor in Alex’s hands, or a grave by the lake. This had to end, and she was going to make it happen.

“Your family won't like it.”

“They don't have to. But they’ll understand. One day, maybe.”

Eliza half expected Alex to say no, to tell her it was too dangerous or some such bullshit. He only looked at her for a long moment, then squeezed her hand in return. Whatever kind of monster this war was making them, it would be worth it and what was more, they would become it together.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm very aware that so far the Mad King has been a very distant figure in this story and we're actually yet to meet him - that's kind of deliberate, I love the idea in Hamilton of this distant king on the other side of an ocean extending so much power and shaping the lives of everyone without actually being there himself.
> 
> Also, I'm probably going to split the last year into a part 1 and part 2 and maybe an epilogue if that's alright :)


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yet again, please take note of the character death warning for this whole year's worth of plot. I wrote a lot of it a while ago, having recently read Dumbledore's Army and the Year of Darkness. It's fantastic (and if you only read one Harry Potter fic in your life I'd recommend that one) but it doesn't exactly shy away from the body count, and neither will I.

**Year 7, Part 1**

 

  * Eliza has no idea how to tell her sisters that she’s going off with Alex to hunt the Mad King, but as it turns out she doesn’t need to. They work it out, and so ensues the biggest argument the three of them have ever had. Peggy is simply scared for her sister, and Angelica is rapidly spiralling into a panic that Eliza’s going to go where she can’t follow, and can’t protect her little sister. Eliza simply explains why she can’t go back to school, not with the King in her head every time she closes her eyes, and thinks how ridiculous it is that something that happened in 2nd Year is still shaping her life.



 

  * Peggy and Angelica eventually realise they’re not going to be able to stop her, and agree to keep it secret from their father until she’s after gone. That doesn’t stop Angelica taking Eliza aside, though. 



 

“I’ve made up my mind,” Eliza said, fiddling with the end of a plat. She’d taken to braiding her hair off her face these last few months, and couldn’t help but wonder if it would be easier to chop it off altogether. There was no room for vanity where she was going, after all.

“I know.” Angelica smiled, despite it all. “You’re a Schuyler. There’s never been any stopping you. God, I wish you weren’t so stubborn, sometimes.”

“You’re still angry.” It wasn’t a question.

“Angry? I’m furious that you’re doing this, ‘Liza. I’m terrified, and I’m so fucking proud. See the problem?”

“You two might not be any safer at school this year,” Eliza said as gently as she could, voicing the one thing she’s spent the whole summer desperately trying not to think about.

“I know.”

For a long time, neither sister spoke. They stood, looking out over the garden that they’d grown up playing Quiditch in, and tried desperately to ignore the air of finality hanging over their heads. Eventually, Angelica sighed and said “Be careful.”

“Of course I’m going to-“

“Be careful with Alex, I mean.”

Eliza blinked, and glanced at her sister. “Alex?”

“I’m worried about him. He’s angry, he’s had his whole world crash down around his head twice in the last three years, and now you’re disappearing off with him to hunt down a mad-man.”

“You’re saying he’s unstable? That he’s dangerous?” Eliza didn’t entirely succeed in keeping the accusation from her voice.

“Of course not. I love Alex. Just… be careful with him, okay? He’d do whatever it takes to kill the King, and I’m scared you’ll be standing in the way.”

“I can handle myself. And I’m already standing in the way. We all are just by fighting. And…” she took a deep breath, inhaling that scent that was so ineffably home. “And if Alex get’s a shot at killing that bastard, I’d beg him to take it regardless of where I’m standing. Because I’d do exactly the same.”

There was nothing that Angelica could do, except wrap her arms around her sister, who’d somehow grown up in the years she spent trying to keep her safe. 

 

  * Alex is back at the orphanage. He supposes he could have gone back to the flat that he and JJ shared for such a short period of time, but even if it had been safe, he’s not sure he’d have been able to bare it without his brother. Besides, the orphanage has ancient magic woven into it’s gates to keep its children safe - it’s the reason Alex was hidden there all those years ago, and thank God they’re designed for muggle children and won’t fail until he’s eighteen. He can only prepare for tracking down the King as best he can, and pray that there are no death-eaters waiting for him when he leaves it’s safety.



 

A single piece of parchment crumbled to ash in the air before him, consumed by a living ball of flame. Alex watched his letter shrivel and burn with a sobering air of finality. It was done, and come morning he would be gone.

It was the last of Lafayette’s fire messages. They had been a stroke of genius on his friend’s part for the simple reason that the spell had already been cast on the rolls of parchment, and all Alex had to do was sign his name rather than perform any magic himself. He was seventeen, of course, but you could never be too careful. Not with the government all but over-run with death-eaters and those too afraid to take a stand against them. Being arrested for spellwork in a muggle area was the last thing he needed right now. Not when he was about to disappear.

That message had been the final green-light for tomorrow’s plan. Eliza was coming, and it was too late to back out now.

He couldn’t hide here forever. Even behind the the protective enchantments, in muggle London and isolated form his friends, Alex was vulnerable. Unfortunately, there was no doubt that the Mad King knew that as well. They couldn't touch him in here, but as soon as he left the protection of his home… Well, he was just going to have to hope that they weren't expecting him to move tonight. Once he reached the Schuylers he could safely disappear, but until then Alex couldn't help but jump at every shadow, and reach  for his wand for reassurance a dozen times a day.

It hadn't taken long to pack everything of value. His thoughts wandered to his rucksack, carefully hidden at the back of a wardrobe where no one else would find it. There wasn't much he needed, after all. A couple of changes of clothes, his broom, carefully shrunken down to the size of a pen, certain items from his potions kit.

The sketchbook that John had given him on his fourteenth birthday. 

It was with a strange consistency that time flowed as that evening fell away to night, both too fast and not fast enough. The orphanage hadn't been his home, not truly, for six years now, but all the same it would be strange to leave it behind for good. Alex had no illusions that he would ever come back here, after all. 

Something of his mood must have shown in his face because Ned shot him a questioning look as they went to bed that night. Alex ignored it, instead turning away from the boy and doing his best to feint sleep. He’d always been terrible at goodbyes, and Alex had had far too many of those in his lifetime already. 

(Even if was the thought of the goodbyes he _hadn't_ got to say that haunted his dreams.) 

(Even if he caught himself screaming out most nights for his mother, for John, for James.) 

(Oh God…)

Alex shook his head sharply, dragging himself back to the present. No, he wouldn't say goodbye to anyone, nor his life here. Far better he slip away quietly. 

Soon enough, the room was filled with the sound of heavy breathing and soft, snuffling snores. Alex lay perfectly still, watching the luminous green hands of his watch tick by. _Eleven. Eleven thirty. Twelve._

At half past midnight, he eased himself out of bed, retrieved his bag and stole out of the room. Years of creeping around a castle undetected meant that Alex made his way downstairs and into reception without incident. He had had one hand on the front door when a voice stopped him in his tracks.

“Where are you going?”

Alex took a moment to close his eyes and curse softly before he turned around to see a figure standing at the top of the stairs. Ned was wearing his pyjamas and an expression of pure confusion, glasses crooked and sandy hair sticking up unevenly as if he had been asleep. 

“Go back to bed.”

“You’re running again, aren’t you?” he accused.

“What? No, I-“ 

“Yes you are.” Ned took a couple of steps down towards him. “You’re disappearing off in the middle of the night again, and leaving us all behind.”

Alex didn't have time for this. He had to go, now. Never mind  the fact that he was looking his friend in the eye with the knowledge that he’d probably never see him again. “Ned, please just go back to bed and forget you ever saw me. I can’t explain now, but this isn’t what it looks like.”

“No? Let’s see. Bag packed. Bed empty. Creeping around in the middle of the night.” He ticked them off on his fingers. “I think it’s exactly what it looks like.” Ned had reached the bottom of the stairs, and paused before his eyes narrowed. “This is about those friends of yours, isn't it? The ones from school?.”

Alex bit his lip. “Yes, okay? Someone’s in trouble.”

“What kind of trouble?”

“Ned…”

“Is this gonna get you hurt again?”

“I don’t know!” Alex exploded, before looking around in panic in case anyone had heard. “I don’t know, alright?” he whispered softly, praying Ned would understand. “All I know is my friends need my help and I’d be a pretty shitty friend if I just sat here.”

Ned looked at him for a long minute. Then, inexplicably, he picked up Alex’s trunk. “Okay.” he said simply. “Let’s go.” And without further ado, he began to walk towards the door.

“What? No!” Alex ran after him. “You can’t come!”

“Why not? They’re your friends and you’re my friend. If someone’s in trouble I want to help.”

Alex wanted to scream as Ned unlocked the door and stepped out onto the street. This wasn't going to plan at all. The his fingers brushed the handle of his wand in his pocket, but he couldn't rely on magic here. Casting a single spell now would bring the whole of the ministry down on his head. And far more importantly, he refused to do anything that might hurt Ned. 

“You’re being ridiculous.” Alex said. They were halfway down the street by now. “Ned, please listen to me. Go home. It isn't safe.”

“Yeah, because you can tell me what to do.” Ned laughed, and Alex grabbed his arm.

“Shut up.”

“What? You know it’s true. You haven't been able to boss me around since we were about twelve.“

“Ned, stop talking right now.” Alex hissed, drawing out his wand. Because every hair on the back of his neck was standing on end, and it wasn't anything to do with the summer breeze. And he was pretty sure that the cracking sound that had cut across the night hadn't been anything to do with a car backfiring either. He wasn't anywhere near the rendezvous point yet, and the others were flying anyway, which could only mean…

“Get away from me.” Alex said, fighting to keep his voice even. “Turn around, get back home and lock the door behind you. Do it now.”

“No way! And what’s that? A stick?” Ned asked with a laugh. “ _Scary_.”

“I’m serious.”

“So am I. What-?”

The air around them exploded in light. Alex didn't even think, drawing purely on instinct as he whirled around, pulling Ned behind him and casting shields on autopilot. Had he not already had his want out, he was sure they would both be dead.  Figures moved around the edges of his field of vision and he didn't have time to do more than frantically block whatever was sent his way, let alone attack back. He was vaguely aware of Ned screaming behind him, and Alex knew they had to move. He had no idea how many people he was up against, only that his friend was defenceless and there was no way he could keep either of them alive for very long if they stayed here. He could only think of one thing left to do. The plan was far from perfect, but it was all they had. 

He grabbed a firm hold of Ned’s arm with one hand, gripped onto his discarded trunk with the other and twisted into midair. The street corner fell away, a moment later replaced with the grass of Hilly Fields.

Alex sucked in a breath of the night air gratefully, and took a moment to make sure he was all in one piece before he was forced to deal with the pressing question of what now? Ned, it seamed had other ideas.

“What the fuck was that, Alex? What just happened?” he demanded, voice unnaturally high. “With the flashes… and you… and… now we’re in the middle of a park! How…?”

“Calm down. I know it’s a lot but I’m gonna need you to process it, and process it quickly. We might not be safe here.”

“Safe…?” Ned echoed faintly. “We just teleported halfway across the city and you think there’s even a chance we could be safe?”

“Apperated.”

“What?”

“It’s called aperating, not teleporting.”

“Does it matter? How did you do that?”

Alex took a deep breath and took hold of both of Ned’s shoulders, silencing his ramblings. “Okay. Short version. I haven’t spent the last six years at a fancy school on a scholarship. I’m a wizard. I can do magic. Unfortunately, so can a lot of dangerous people who are trying to kill me and half the country while they’re at it, unless I manage to stop them first. _Capiche_?”

Ned blinked. “No, Alex, not _capiche_! You’re a what? A wizard? _Crazy_ is what you are.”

“Quite possibly,” Alex said distractedly, eyes frantically searching the skies. Any moment now…

A figure swooped down from the skies so fast it gave the impression that she had materialised out of the darkness itself. She landed smoothly in front of them and Alex only lowered his wand in relief when she dismounted her brooms and he could actually see her faces.

“Thank God. I was beginning to think you guys weren’t coming.”

“Of course we came,” Eliza grinned, getting half way towards him before stopping short and narrowing her eyes in Ned’s direction.

“Who’s this?” she asked.

“He’s a friend. A muggle. ‘Liza, Ned, Ned, this is my friend Eliza.”

“And what exactly is your muggle friend Ned doing here?” 

“I didn't exactly plan on it but we’ve got a bigger problem. They knew. Somehow they knew I was moving tonight and they were waiting. Appeared right outside the gates the minute I left.”

She swore. “And you used magic, I take it?”

“Shields and apperation. Which gives the ministry all the excuse it needs to come after me as well.”

“Then we need to get out of here,” Eliza said. “You ready to fly?”

“Yeah, one sec.”

Alex turned to Ned, who was doing a pretty impressive job of not screaming, passing out or even a little hyperventilation. Of course, the boy was most likely in shock but he was still taking this all pretty well all. “Ned, I need you to disappear for a bit. Don’t go back to the orphanage, and don’t tell anyone you’ve seen me. Lie low at Kitty’s or something, just for a bit until they forget about you.”

“I can’t just-“

“These people are dangerous. Murder you without a second thought dangerous, and I can’t be worrying about you where I’m going.”

“And you still can’t tell me where that is?”

“I don’t even know myself. Just away from here.”

Ned swallowed. “I thought you were running away. We could still do that, like we always planned. These people can’t hurt you if they can’t find you. You and me, disappear right now!”

“We were just dumb kids back then.”

“We’re still dumb kids, except apparently you’re Gandalf or some shit now.”

And despite everything, Alex had to laugh at his friend. He was still wearing his slightly too small pyjamas, glasses crooked, and such fierce determination in his eyes against a world he couldn't begin to comprehend. “I can’t just run anymore.”

“You never could.”

And that was the memory Alex held close to his chest as the two of them climbed high into the London night, the picture of Ned smiling softly with a smile that said I know you too well. It was almost enough to keep him warm on the long flight north.

 

  * The school year starts, and there are far too many faces missing from the train. Theo is all alone in Slytherin with both Alex and Aaron gone, and she spends as little time as possible in the dungeons as possible, bracing for an attack for being muggleborn at any time. Herc is also feeling isolated in Gryffindor - his dorm has gone from three to one members (with Laf staying in France to fight), and he leans on Peggy more than ever, who in turn is worried for Eliza. 



 

  * The Revolution is one hell of a distraction - something to work focus on and remind themselves that the seats are empty for a reason.  Angelica and Hercules assume a sort of joint leadership, and they’re a good team. They're both determined to protect the ones they love at all costs, and both are more than aware of what those costs might be. It’s becoming increasingly apparent that there’s going to be a fight at some point before the end of the year. Most of them are graduating in the summer, and outside of the school nowhere will be safe, not with the King slowly taking over the government. 



 

  * Not that things are safe inside Hogwarts. The death-eaters know that Alex managed to slip their nets, and they want to know where he is. Unfortunately, it’s obvious that Eliza isn’t at school, and they conclude she must be with him. 



 

  * Across the Channel, Laf finds himself on the front lines of the war for Paris. It’s only been a couple of months since he left school, but he’s sure he’d already be dead if they hadn’t spent the best part of two years training for this. He and Adrienne are hiding out in a closed down cafe in the heart of the city preparing for an ambush, surrounded by a mixture of Beauxbattons students and French aurors (who may or may not resemble _Les Amis_ , and for whom I may or may not have a whole load of spin-off head-canons for). Laf complains that Jefferson is missing one hell of a fight, and hopes that everyone back at school is okay. Adrienne takes his hand, and even if she had the heart to lie to him and say it would be okay, she doesn’t get the chance before the ambush springs and all hell breaks loose.



 

  * Angelica, Peggy, and Hercules  (who it’s well known spends most of his holidays with them) are dragged up to the headmaster’s office, where Washington is in the middle of staring down some clearly shifty ministry officials, demanding to know where Eliza and Alex are. The three of them deny all and say that Eliza’s ill at home. The wizards don’t believe them, and it’s clear that they’re willing to report to violence when Washington steps between them and his students.



 

  * Washington says that he’s got Alex hidden in one of his safe-houses, and that he’s been there since his brother died. It’s a blatant lie, as the military wizards probably know, yet they don’t care when it’s fantastic pre-text for arresting him for harbouring a known criminal (and wow, Alex is a criminal now?) Washington fights them off, but not before taking a fairly serious wound to his side, and has to go on the run. 



 

  * Meanwhile in a tent somewhere, Alex and Eliza are having a fairly miserable time trying to track down the Mad King. They don’t even have horcruxes to hunt! They’re trying to work out how the King was able to come back because it might give them a way to kill him, but so far they’ve got nothing. It’s frustrating to the point of tears, and would be boring if they weren’t constantly having to dodge death-eaters, snatchers and the like.



 

  * What they are doing is getting closer to each-other, and Alex is seriously freaked out to realise that he’s starting to have feelings for Eliza. He tries to convince himself that it’s just the intensity of the situation and the fact that they’re living on top of each other with no one else around. Because she’s his best friend, and the last time he fell for his best friend, John died. It’s not fair on Eliza to compare the two in his head, and he definitely doesn’t want to go through that pain again, because the chances that they both make it out alive is slim to none.



 

  * Laf and Adrienne are alive, if a little worse for wear, but the same can’t be said of a lot of the people they’re fighting with, and they know that they’re slowly losing. Laf gets a text - yes, they’re still using muggle technology, even if there’s too much magic in the air for a full phonecall, from Angelica updating him that Washington is on the run, so Britain’s resistance just got a whole lot weaker. For the first time, he lets himself believe that they’re not going to win this fight, and realises that all their hopes are pinned on Hogwarts, and the unlikely miracle that Alex and Eliza find a way to kill the King. 



 

  * Hogwarts is getting an increasingly worse place to be for muggleborns. Theo’s tormentors have graduated from bullying to all-out attempts to curse her, and she no longer goes to the dungeons. She’s living out of the Room of Requirement and occasionally Angelica’s floor, and knows that soon enough not even going to lessons is going to be safe enough for her.



 

  * Madison is a half-blood, and knows that even that precarious position might not be safe for much longer. Jefferson knows this too, and begs James to leave with him at Christmas. He’s a pure-blood and practically wizard royalty - his status can protect James and make sure they both get through this war unscathed. James flat-out refuses. Everyone else is staying and fighting, and why should he get to be safe when people are being killed for the same blood that runs through his veins? 



 

  * It’s one of those rare moments when the Ravenclaw is both very brave and very, very stupid. Thomas doesn’t understand why he doesn’t run. James only laughs and says Thomas doesn’t understand what the hell they’re fighting for. Thomas is close to Adams, who’s back running the school with Washington gone, and it’s time he picked a side.



 

  * Alex and Eliza are camping on a hill overlooking Lake Windermere, and the landscape is so much like Hogwarts that they can’t help but ache for their fiends and family left behind, and the care-free days of childhood that are probably gone for ever. So when Eliza puts on the radio and holds out her hand with a raised eyebrow, Alex can’t help but take it. They’re no better at dancing than they were at the Yuleball, a night before the whole world went to hell that seems that little bit less distant when they’re swaying out of time to a song definitely not made for dancing. For one moment, they’re not two soldiers on a probable-suicide mission to kill a madman. They’re just two teenagers, standing that bit too close to each-other, then standing even closer, then slowly leaning in and kissing in the half light of an old camping light. Eliza smiles into his lips, and for the first time in, well _years_ , it doesn’t hurt.



 

  * Wearing black robes and a permanent, carefully constructed mask, Aaron looks every inch the Death-eater. He feels every inch the monster, and it’s getting harder and harder to remind himself why he once thought this was a good idea. It’s a struggle every day just to convince them that he’s a good little servant, and he’s long since stopped being able to justify the things he’s done to do so. He does his best to aim over people’s heads whenever he’s sent out on raids and once pretends he didn’t find a pair of children cowering in a cellar, telling them to stay quiet and out of sight instead. It’s not enough though, he knows, and it doesn’t help that they send him on raids he has a personal connection to more times than not. 



 

  * It’s Christmas Even when they send him and a group of other Death-eaters to burn the Schuyler household to the ground. They split up, and it’s him that finds Philip in front of the escape tunnel to America. “Leave,” Aaron tells him, and Philip does, although not without spitting that Aaron’s a traitor and that this changes nothing. That’s fair, Aaron decides later, face illuminated in the flames of his friends’ home. 



 

  * Word gets back to Hogwarts, and Theo and Angelica agree that they both have reason to want to make Aaron pay if they ever get their hands on him. A group of Slytherins almost kill Theo outside of charms, and they decide it’s too dangerous for her to stay in school. Theo doesn’t like it, she wants to stay and fight, but she’s not going to be any use to them if she’s dead before the fighting starts. Instead, they smuggle her out of the castle to go and live in one of their father’s safe-houses, a little cottage by the sea where they won’t find her. Their army seems to be getting that bit smaller every day.



 

  * Alex and Eliza don’t talk about this thing between them. There’s no point, not when there’s no-one around to have to qualify their relationship to, and little chance that they’ll live long enough for it to matter. Some nights they stay up and make plan after unsuccessful plan to find out about the mad king, sometimes they have sex, and sometimes they just hold each-other tight and pretend to be sleeping. 



 

Eliza lies perfectly still, facing the white-grey wall of the tent rather than Alex. Daylight is beginning to filter through the canvas, and before long they will have to get up and move to a different patch of wilderness. She can’t bring herself to move quite yet though, not when the morning is so still. Alex lazily traces the join between her neck and shoulders with his lips and she smiles, despite herself. She has no idea what the two of them are doing, but such questions seem trivial when put alongside the war that rages all around them. 

It hardly feels worth it to worry about taking comfort in her best friend when any day could be her last. 

That’s not all she’s doing, though, as much as she tries to deny it to herself. Quite against her will, Eliza is rapidly falling for Alexander Hamilton. It’s everything she swore that she’s never do, ever since she stood in the wreckage of her life at age thirteen and swore she’d never let herself be helpless. They’re here to kill the king, and when the time comes, Eliza has to trust herself to do whatever it takes to end this war. She’s more than willing to die, but she has no idea what she’d do if it were Alex’s life on the line instead of her own. 

And that’s so very dangerous, given the stakes.

Maybe this was what Angelica meant when she told her to be careful with Alex. Maybe Angelica saw it before either of them did. 

She does her best not to think about it, which is kind of difficult at times like this when Alex is a warm, grounding presence behind her. Instead, she forces her mind to return to their task, the near impossible question of how to kill a man who, by all counts is immortal. They’re no closer to finding him than when they started, but there’s no point in tracking him down until they have a chance of ending it. Eliza frowns, thinking. She’s so sure that the answer must lie with how he was able to return to power after all those years. But how he did that is a mystery.

They’re still unclear on when he managed it, in all honesty. All they know is that it has to have been before the end of their fourth year. Before John died. For Eliza, the war has been raging since she first put that necklace on and heard the first whisper in her ear. But for all her friends, it wasn’t a reality until there was suddenly an empty space where John first stood. 

That was the day that the world changed, for Alex more than any one them, so what-?

Oh.

_Oh God._

Maybe they had been looking at this whole thing wrong.

She was out of bed in an instant, crossing the tent to the table covered in scattered papers. Alex let out an undignified squark that was half confusion, half indignation at the sudden loss of warmth, but Eliza barely noticed. She looked through their notes, scanning for anything that might have told her she was wrong and they hadn’t all been so very stupid.

Alex paused to throw on a jumper before joining her, hair still mussed and tangled from sleep. “What is it?”

She took a deep breath and looked Alex squarely in the eye. “John.”

The effect was instantaneous. Alex didn’t flinch, not as such, but his eyes darkened and something tensed in his jaw. She knew it’s cruel, but there wasn’t time to tiptoe around his feelings. It was one of the reason that they didn’t talk about whatever was between them, the fact that Alex was still painfully in love with a boy who was never coming back. The very mention of John’s name as she stood wearing nothing but Alex’s old shirt was probably jarring. That couldn't be helped right now. 

“What about John?”

“We’ve spent this whole time thinking that the King killed him as the first big act of his return. What if killing John was his return?”

“What?”

“There’s no record of anyone dying before that night. No bodies, no missing people, not even a whisper. I think that somehow, they needed John to bring him back. Some sort of life for a life thing.”

Alex stared at her, and Eliza waited for her to tell her that she was being ridiculous. He didn’t. Instead, he slumped into a chair and poked through the papers. “Why John, though? He was killed in the middle of the most high-profile event of the year. Surely it would have been easier to get anyone else. Why the fuck did it have to be him?” He’s not just asking Eliza, and he’s not just asking about the technicalities.

“I don’t know. Maybe it was something to do with his father. We know that Henry Laurens was involved, right. Dark magic is all kinds of twisted, and I imagine bringing someone back from the dead requires a lot of it. Maybe it needs a real sacrifice, someone you’d miss most?”

Alex really did flinch this time, and Eliza remembered too late that he’d been the ‘thing John would miss most’ in the second task. 

“It’s a lot of _maybes_ , I know,” she admitted.

“But it’s all we’ve got. And even if you’re wrong, I bet Henry Laurens would know what really happened that night.”

She chewed on the corner of her lip. One on hand, this was the biggest break-through they’d had. On the other, Alex, had been looking for an excuse to go after Laurens since they found out he was a death-eater, and there was no way he was thinking clearly. Here was the boy her sister had warned her about, fierce determination spreading across his face, ready to launch himself towards the sun in search of revenge. 

There was every chance that going after Henry Laurens would drag them both down in flames. But damn if it wouldn’t be worth it, if only they could burn the King and his whole damned castle to the ground. 

 

 

  * The two of them begin to track Henry Laurens, and realise that he and most of the death-eaters seem to be based out of the Burr mansion. “Is my father there?” Alex asks, only half joking. “Then we could just burn the whole set of them down in one go.” Eliza is more pragmatic about who else might be there, maybe this is where the King is hiding. Their surveillance is pretty much useless with Death-eaters appearing just inside the gates to avoid being seen, and after a week of no progress they decide it’s time for more drastic action. 



 

  * Charles Lee is a tellingly easy man to track down - a low level death-eater who’s really more of an opportunist than anything else. They decide to jump him at exactly the moment that he apperates to the Burr mansion, and it’s by far the most dangerous thing they’ve done yet. If he sees them before the last minute he could apperate without them and raise the alarm, and even if they manage to get the timing right, they could appear in a crowd of death-eaters and get killed on site. Eliza considers saying something to Alex as they wait in the alley he usually disparates from, something to mark the moment and try and explain how she feels for him but there’s really not much point. And no time, either, as Lee appears and on the count of three they lunge for him.



 

  * It works, and even more amazingly they appear on a long, winding, and entirely deserted driveway. They stun Lee and do their best to creep unseen towards the house - the two of them don’t quiet fit under the invisibility cloak anymore. They make it inside, and make their way up to a balcony overlooking a meeting happening below. The King isn’t there, but Henry Laurens is, and James Hamilton (honestly, Alex isn’t allowed to make jokes anymore), and sitting slightly to one side with his eyes fixed on the table is Aaron. 



 

  * His Uncle, Timothy Edwards, seems to be chairing the meeting, and talking about their unsuccessful attempts to track down Washington. Half way through he makes a comment about Lee being absent and James leaves, probably to investigate. That means they don’t have long and Alex motions to Eliza that they should leave and work out a plan to get Henry, but the meeting has moved on to talking about her father, still on the run, and she’s frozen in place. He eventually drags her away, opening the door only to walk straight into James, who only smiles as if he’d been expecting them and says “Hi, son.”



 

  * He takes their wands, and they’re dragged down to the meeting, and Aaron is forced to identify them (because apparently James is unhinged to such a degree that not even the death-eaters will trust his word.) Aaron does so reluctantly, all the while desperately trying to communicate _something_ with his eyes. Henry wants to kill them there and then, but Edwards thinks they might be useful in getting to Washington, and orders Aaron to put them in the cellar instead. “I’m so sorry,” he whispers as he drags them downstairs at wand-point, but Alex only hears the last words Aaron said before killing his brother. He tries to punch Aaron, who only jams his wand a bit tighter into Alex's back and throws them in the cellar, locking the door behind them.



 

“Aaron! AARON!” Alex yelled, pounding his fists against the door in fury. “Don’t do this!”

“Alex,” Eliza said gently, placing a hand on his shoulder. “He’s not coming back. We’re on our own.”

“The fucking snake. We trusted him, we all trusted him, and…”

“I know. You can kill him later. And I’d help, but right now let’s work out how to get out of here.”

Alex took a deep breath, recognising the truth in her words but not liking it one bit. He had to keep calm and think his way out of this like he always did, or they were as good as dead. He glanced around the gloomy room, struggling to see through the darkness. The cellar had damp stone walls, no light, and a chill that, had he been able to see more than a foot in front of his face,would be turing his breath to a visible fog. Trust the Burrs to have a wine cellar, he thought bitterly. If they’d been caught in any other house in the country there might be an easy exit, but no, Aaron’s family just had to be this pretentious. The door was a non-starter, solid oak even without the extra magical locks, and even if they had their wands he was pretty sure the room would be charmed to prevent apperation. Okay, so they weren’t getting out of here the normal ways. What else did they have? _Think, Hamilton, dammit._

“We’re gonna have to jump him,” he told Eliza with more confidence than he felt. “When Aaron comes down here, we hide behind the door and hope we’re quicker with our fists than he is with his wand. If we take him by surprise, we might just have a chance.”

“Alex…”

“I know, it’s a stupid idea. And then we’ve got to get through a whole house of death-eaters. But unless you’ve got a better one-“

“Alex, _shut up._ I think there’s something down here.”

It was only then that he noticed the strangled calm in her voice, the sort he’d leaned meant that Eliza was terrified. He stared into the darkness, listening, and after a moment he heard what had put her so on edge. The sound of raspy breathing filled the cellar, issuing from somewhere in the darkness. _Oh God._

“Get behind me,” he hissed. Eliza ignored him. Yeah, that was probably fair. She was the one who'd spent five years kickboxing. 

Had they locked them down here, defenceless, with some kind of monster? Was that what was going on here? There would be no interrogation, no being hauled in front of the Mad King, just a lonely death in the dark? Alex desperately thought back to care of magical creatures but he had no idea what to expect, not a clue what might be down here with them. They were screwed.

“Do you have the torch?” Eliza whispered.

“What?”

“Your stupid muggle lightstick. Do you still have it?”

Alex cursed, then fished in his pockets. He’d never taken the torch out, but would it still be there after everything that had happened today? Things had a habit of falling out of his pockets even at the best of times… For a moment there was nothing but empty fabric, but then his fingers brushed closed around the plastic. And a moment later a narrow beam of light illuminated the room.

There was no monster, no terrifying beast. In fact, at first glance, the cellar was empty apart from them. But then, as his eyes adjusted to the sudden glow, Alex made out a shape in the far corner. It looked like a person, all huddled in on themselves under a blanket. Just how many people were the Burrs keeping prisoner?

“Hello?” 

No response. 

Eliza took a tentative step towards the figure. Alex grabbed her arm. “What the hell are you doing? They could be dangerous.”

“They could be hurt.”

She stared him down with steady eyes, and Alex just nodded, letting her go. He moved a few steps closer, opened his mouth to ask if they were okay, and stopped dead. All the air rushing out of him in a ragged gasp. The boy’s hair was wild and unkempt, his frame painfully, painfully thin. But all the same…

“ _John_?”


	18. Chapter 18

There was a moment of perfect, terrible silence in the cellar, in which Alex was sure that the moment would shatter, that the boy in front of him would disappear or collapse or turn out to be someone else altogether. Then he spoke.

“Alex? Alex, is that you?”

John’s voice was raw and scratchy from disuse, as well as painfully small. He looked up with round eyes and a fear Alex didn't recognise danced behind them. Or maybe just that he didn’t remember. In the years he’d spent convincing himself he’s never see John again, he was never quite sure what memories were real and what had simply been twisted by time.

Behind him, Alex heard Eliza’s soft gasp of “Holy crap,” but her words barely registered. He was aware of nothing but the pounding of his own heart, surging with a treacherous sort of hope. Because there was no way that John could really be here, alive and whole and looking terrible but so fucking real. 

“Alex?” he said again.

And hell if he didn’t  _ sound _ real. He  _ looked _ real. Alex surged across the space between them and threw his arms around John, burying his face in the other boy’s neck. He felt real too, warm and solid beneath Alex’s fingers and God, even the smell of being trapped in a cellar for fuck-only-knows how long was real enough. John froze for a heartbeat before returning the hug. He was shaking, thin arms trembling with what might have been tears. Or maybe it was Alex who was crying. He could no longer tell and he didn’t much care, all that mattered that maybe John was here after all, and not lying under some awful stone after all. 

“I missed you so goddamn much,” John whispered into his hair.

He didn’t know how long they stood there and simply clung to each-other. Alex hadn’t noticed Eliza joining the hug until she pulled away and whispered “John, how are you here? What the hell happened to you?”

Alex let him go reluctantly, irrationally angry at Eliza for breaking the moment for such a petty thing as fact when it could all disappear again at any second.

“The Mad King happened to me,” John replied bitterly. “Him and my fucking father. The cup was a portkey.”

“Cup?”

“The Triwizard cup. It took me to a graveyard full of death-eaters and, well, they took me here when they were done with me.”

Under any other circumstances, Alex might have zeroed in on the hollow way that John said  _ done with me _ , but his head was too full of  _ John? _ and  _ how? _ to pay it too much attention.

“You’ve been locked in a basement for two and a half fucking years?”

“Not, exactly, I-“

“Burr’s basement? That motherf-“

“Don’t blame Aaron.” John said. Perhaps he was keen to change the subject from his own hardship, because it’s the most sure he’d sounded since speaking. “I think he only found out I was here about six months ago, and he’s just as much a prisoner as I am.”

“Really? Because I didn't notice his own cellar when he was throwing us down here.”

“It’s complicated, Alex.”

“Oh brilliant, on top of everything you’ve got bloody Stockholm syndrome.” John frowned at him, confused, and Alex realised it was probably a muggle reference  that had gone way over his head. He waved his hand dismissively. “Never mind. What’s complicated is finding you here after all this time. Burr being an evil asshole isn’t complicated.”

“You don’t understand,” John said, attempting to wrench his arm from Alex’s grip. His attempt to stand unsupported was short lived, however, crumpling the moment he didn’t have Alex to lean on for support, and Alex lunged to catch him before he hit the ground.”

“John! Are you alright?”

Eliza was watching them with soft eyes. “What did they do to you?” John didn’t reply, instead closing his eyes and leaning his head against Alex’s forehead as if physically drained from the sheer effort of staying upright. 

“We’ve got to get him out of here.” she said. 

“You think I haven't tried getting out? Trust me, we’re not going anywhere.”

“And trust me, we are.” Alex cupped John’s face in his hand, willing him to understand. “I’ve got you back, so don’t think for one second that I’m about to lose you again. Do you have any idea what it’s been like?”

“When you were looking for me?” He managed a weak chuckle. “Bet you never thought to check in Burr’s basement, huh?”

Alex blinked. “Looking for you? John, we…” he couldn’t say it.

Eliza took John’s hand. “We weren’t looking for you,” she said gently. “We thought you were dead.”

What little colour left in John’s cheeks drained away. “You thought I was dead?”

“We had a funeral. You’ve got a grave.”

“So you don’t…? Oh God…” John looked like he wanted to throw up. “I’m so sorry.”

Alex opened his mouth to tell him that it wasn't his fault, that he never needed to be sorry for anything again because he’d done the impossible and come back to him, when they heard the clanging of a door opening somewhere above them and the sound of footsteps on the stairs. 

“Someone’s coming,” Eliza whispered. 

There was no time to plan, only act. “Can you move?” Alex asked John urgently, who hesitated before nodding. The three of them flanked door, backs pressed against the wall, and Alex remembered the to turn the torch off just as the lock clicked open.

He was on Aaron as soon as he opened the door. It was a stupid move, Alex knew, but amazingly it didn’t all go wrong in seconds. Aaron had come alone, and wasn't expecting to be attacked.  _ Stupid _ .

“Alexander, wait-“ was as far as his fellow Slytherin got before Alex’s fist collided with his face with a satisfying crunch. And then another one for good measure.

“You coward, Burr.” Alex hissed. “I thought we were brothers once, did you know that? I hope you’re happy, you selfish, _evil_ _fuck_.”

He raised his fist for another swing and Eliza caught his wrist before he could swing it down. “Alex, stop.”

“Get out of my way, ‘Liza.”

“Just stop and look!”

He paused then, tearing his eyes away from Aaron’s bloodied face to the items he’d been carrying. It was their bags, and lying on top of them…

Alex snatched up his wand and stuck it under Aaron’s chin. “What the hell is this?” he demanded.

“Your things” he responded weakly. “You all need to leave. Now.”

“What?”

“I’m helping you, you fool.”

“Give me one good reason why I should trust you.”

Aaron shrugged, and somehow despite the fact he was flat on his back with blood dripping freely from one nostril, he managed the cool demeanour of a man holding all the cards. “I can’t. But in about two minutes this house is going to be even more full of death eaters. Where you want to be when that happens is up to you, but I would advise it not be here.”

John cried out in pain, and Alex turned to him instantly, letting Burr fall back to the floor. John slid down the wall, eyes closed and face screwed in pain. His whole body shook, and Alex was suddenly sure that the other shoe had dropped. Whatever this was, this was the price for getting John back. 

“John? John! Can you hear me?” Alex demanded, panicking, then turned to Aaron again. “What’s happening to him?”

The calm demeanour was gone, replaced with outright terror, and Alex realised it was an expression he’d never seen on Burr before. “He’s coming. The King. Please, you have to get Laurens out of here. You can apparate from the top of the stairs.”

There was no time to argue. Aaron grabbed the bags, and Eliza and Alex hoisted a semi-conscious John towards the door. It couldn’t be healthy, how little John weighed, but that was a blessing right now as the dragged him up the stairs. He felt it the moment they passed through the door at the top, a weight he hadn't even been aware of lifting as they passed through the magical barrier.

“There’s one more thing you need to do.” Aaron said, once he had handed them the bags. “You’ve got to stun me and take my wand.”

“What?”

“That’s the only way they’ll believe you got out. I’ll say you overpowered me.”

“You’re not coming with us?” Eliza asked.

“I can’t. I’ve hurt too many people to turn back now.”

“That’s not true!” Eliza argued, at the same time as Alex said “Even if they believe you had nothing to do with us getting out, they’re gonna be furious we’re gone. And then they’re going to take it out on you.”

“They won’t kill me,” Aaron said with a transparent confidence that fooled no-one. “My blood’s far too pure for that.”

“There are worse ways to hurt people than killing them.”

“Like locking them in a cellar? Like burning their home to the ground?” And Alex finally recognised the tone in Aaron’s voice. Shame. “Please, just go. I’ll be fine.”

Alex didn't believe him. He knew for a fact that if they left Aaron to the mercy of these people, there was a high chance they’d never see each other again. And all because he was helping them. Five minutes ago Alex had been planning to kill Aaron himself, and even if a part of him was still resolved to that, it didn’t seem right to just leave him behind. But they didn't have time to argue. If they stayed here any longer, they’d all be dead.  _ John _ would be dead.

Aaron held his wand out hilt first and Alex hesitated only a moment before taking it. Their eyes locked for a moment. It wasn't forgiveness that passed between the two of them, not even close, but it was something. An understanding. He thought of the orphaned boy he’d met at King’s Cross all those years ago, and wondered if they were always fated to end up here. 

“Stupefy,” he whispered, and the ghost of a smile crossed Aaron’s lips before he crumpled. And a moment later Eliza took his arm and twisted on the spot, and the darkness engulfed them.

  
  
  


 

  * **They need to get John somewhere safe, and Eliza picks one of their safe houses at random. It’s the one Theo’s hiding in, and she’s more than a little shocked to see them arrive supporting a now entirely unconscious John. Alex refuses to leave his bedside, and the girls sit downstairs, catching each other up on the last few months. Theo explains just how bad things have gotten at school, and Eliza tells her why they were investigating Henry Laurens, and what happened at the Burr mansion. Her face is a mask as Eliza tells her what Aaron did, and that he’s probably dead.**



  
  


 

Angelica sat in the library, and wondered if it was possible to be more angry than she was right now. They’d woken up to the news that a couple of first years had been caught trying to cross the property boundary, and had been sent to Lee for punishment. No one had seen them since, and if she didn't have a sister to look out for and a house to protect, Angelica might honestly have killed the man in the middle of the Great Hall at breakfast.

Instead, she was writing a letter to her father. They couldn't communicate through normal channels any more; they were checking all the post coming in and out of Hogwarts and she’d have better luck trying to hunt down the Mad King with a spoon than getting at the fireplaces to send a floo message. So they were doing this the old fashioned way. Or rather, the modern way.

Hercules had brought the pens back to school years ago as part of a prank he’d never gotten around to playing on Laf, and everyone had forgotten all about them until a flash of genius on Peggy’s part. They were the sort of things muggle children might buy in a joke shop, cheap plastic pens that seemed to be broken. Until, that was, you shone the weird blue light at the top of the pen at them, and the message would appear.

“Invisible ink.” Herc had announced proudly. “It’s ultra violet.”

“What kind of spell is that?”

“No spell. They’re science, not magic.”

And that was the brilliant of the ‘spy pens’, as the packet named them. No magic, nothing Lee could possibly trace, and the last thing he’d be expecting. Angelica had been a bit sceptical at first, but she had to admit, maybe these muggles were on to something. It had worked brilliantly so far; she would write her father a mundane letter detailing the weather and what she hoped would come up in the next charms test, and write the real message between the lines. It was elegant, untraceable, and there was a certain sense of vindication in using what Lee despised and dismissed against him

They had other ways of communicating in an emergency, but the pens were the simplest and most risk free. That was how they knew about the gradually worsening situation in Paris, for example, and the reason Hercules was apparently getting nightmares after each letter from Lafayette. The last one of those had been a month ago, barely three lines long and scribed on the back of an Eiffel Tower postcard. And no matter how horrifying those short sentences had been, a snapshot of  a city on the verge of collapse, the silence since was so, so much worse. 

Hercules and Peggy refused to believe the worst. Angelica wished she could do the same. 

The sound of footsteps echoed nearby, and she just had time to throw the pen in her bag and pick up a quill before Thomas rounded the corner. She let out a breath of relief, but even so was glad he hadn't caught her. She still wasn't sure where she stood with the Slytherin boy, and until proven otherwise she wasn't going to trust him with any more than she had to.

“What do you want, Jefferson?” she asked without looking up from the letter. “I’ve got work to do.”

“Where’s your sister?”

She frowned. “What?”

Thomas grabbed her shoulders, and she was about to protest when she noticed the look in his eyes. This wasn't the swaggering, confidant boy she’d come to know, nor was this the cruel one she had done her best to help. He was afraid.

“Dammit, Angelica, listen to me. You need to find Peggy, and you two need to disappear, now. Hide. Leave Hogwarts. It doesn't matter, you just can’t be here when they come for you.”

She shook him off. “Who's coming for me? What the hell are you talking about?”

“They got Eliza, okay? Her and Hamilton, word is the King caught up with them last night.”

Under any other circumstances, Angelica would have jumped on the second half of that sentence and demanded just what this word was, and how he was getting information like that. As it was, she could only gasp in panic at the words  _ they got Eliza. _

“They’re fine!” Thomas added hurriedly. “Well, not fine, but they and got away. They’re alive But the death eaters are furious, and now they know she’s with him, that your whole family has been lying… Do you understand what I’m saying?”

Angelica nodded, forcing herself to think past the fear for her family. She could let herself break down later, but right now she couldn't afford to.  _ What comes first? _

“Peggy.” she said, and maybe it was her imagination and seriously skewed judgement right now, but Thomas’s eyes seemed to flood with relief. 

“Yeah. You’ve got to find her and get out of here. I’m assuming you two have a way out?”

She nodded. “How much time do we have?”

“I probably gave you a ten minute head start. You’ve already had two.”

“Thank you,” Angelica whispered before turning and running away, letter and its secret message on the table behind her.

Peggy was where she always was at this time of day, sitting in an alcove somewhere behind the spiral stairs and watching the sun dip below the horizon. She paled rapidly as Angelica repeated what Aaron had said, but her face set into a quiet determination.

“Room of Requirement?”

“Yeah. Time to disappear, sis.”

Peggy allowed herself to be pulled to her feet before freezing. 

“Oh God. We’ve got to get Herc.”

“We don't have time!” Angelica said, trying to pull Peggy down the corridor. She loved Hercules, of course she did, but every second they stayed here they risked capture. More to the point, if she was gone then Hercules was going to have to carry on leading the resistance on his own. The kids needed him more than they ever could, no matter how important he was to her sister.

Peggy only shook her off, eyes imploring. “No. He lied to Lee about Eliza, swore blind that she was at home, straight to his face. He’s just as screwed as we are, and if they can’t find us they’re going to take it out on him.”

It was true. Angelica wanted nothing more than to take her sister’s hand and run as fast as she could… but they couldn't just leave him. 

_ Fuck _ .

Thank God for the network of passages around the school. They used them mostly for sneaking around undetected, but they also doubled up as bloody good shortcuts. The two girls raced towards the Gryffindor common room in half the time it would usually take them. 

“You sure he’s in there?” Angelica asked as they pushed aside the tapestry that hid the section of charmed wall.

“Yeah. He was bitching about potions homework-“

Angelica grabbed her sister, hand covering her mouth and pulled her back into the shadows. Because they were already too late. At the end of the corridor, Lee stood in front of the Fat Lady, flanked by four of his security wizards. They all had their back to the girls, thank God, but that was only because the were looking down at…

“Hercules!” Peggy gasped, trying to break free of her sister’s grip. 

The boy was kneeling on the floor, head bowed, but it snapped up at the sound of Peggy’s voice. Angelica just prayed no one else had heard, and a moment later Herc was looking back up at Lee and she wasn't sure he’d seen them at all.

“Let me go!” Peggy hissed.

“We can’t take five of them.” she whispered. “We’re only going to make things worse for him.”

Down the corridor, Lee shouted “Last time, Mulligan! Where would Hamilton and that Schuyler brat go?”

Herc spat a mixture of blood and saliva onto the floor and glared at Lee. There was a fresh purple bruise blooming on the side of his face, and Angelica suspected it hadn't even been magic that put it there. But Herc, the mad, wonderful fool, was smiling.

“No idea. Haven't exactly had many postcards lately.”

Angelica was expecting one of the wizards to curse him, or even forgoe magic and just beat him up there and then. Lee only snarled, pulling Herc towards him by the front of his robes. It would have been funny (Herc must have had half a foot on him) had she not known exactly what he was capable of, and exactly why Herc wasn't fighting back. It was the same reason she hadn't let go of Peggy’s arm, even though every fibre in her body wanted to leap to his aide.

“Okay, then. Perhaps you can point me in the direction of Schuyler’s sisters. I find people are a bit more forthcoming when it’s their family, don’t you?”

The threat was obvious, and even from this end of the corridor Angelica didn't miss the panic that flashed across Herc’s face.  _ Hugh _ . But he only swallowed, and said “They’re not stupid enough to hang around here. I bet they’ve already gone.”

So he had seen them. And now he was begging them to leave, because that was a hint if ever she’d heard one.

“Peggy…” Angelica whispered. “We have to go. Now. He’s buying us time to get away.”

“We can’t just-“

“He’s buying  _ you _ time. This is his decision. Respect it, and get the fuck out of here.”

For a moment, her sister looked like she wanted to argue. There was a spark of pure fury behind her eyes that Angelica almost didn't recognise. But Peggy just nodded, back straightening, and lead the way back into the gloom. She didn’t look back. Not even when the sound of all-too familiar screaming flooded the corridor behind them.

  
  
  
  
  
  


  * **It’s been three days in the cottage by the sea, and John hasn’t woken up yet. Alex has taken to sitting by his bedside and watching John’s face, trying to find it in him to be grateful to have him back at all, however broken. Sometimes, he reads to him. There’s a stack of kids stories, magical and muggle, and Alex is almost at the end of Roald Dahl’s The MinPins when there’s a shriek from downstairs. His first though is to protect John at all costs, so he has his wand trained at the door when it opens and almost blows Angelica’s head off.**



 

  * **The Schuylers are so fucking thankful to be reunited and see that they’re all okay, although both sides are shocked to find out what the other has been dealing with. More to the point, they can’t believe that John’s alive, nor can they understand what he was doing in Aaron’s basement. It must be more than leverage, surely. There’s no point in making plans, not until John wakes up and they can ask him what in the hell happened. Now Eliza thinks about it, he was fairly evasive about the whole thing in the cellar.**



 

  * **Without any plan or imminent threat, the days feel like a reprise they don’t deserve what with the war carrying on somewhere beyond the cottage and the beach. Alex counts the time by the hours of John’s steady breathing and does his best not to think about what happens next between him, John and Eliza. It’s such a trivial concern as the world continues to crumble, after all. Theo, meanwhile, is floundering under the knowledge that Aaron was probably doing all those terrible things to protect John, and that he’s in all likelihood dead.**



 

 

“Any word on Burr?” Alex asked, almost afraid of the answer, but Angelica just shook her head. 

“Nothing. I don’t know what that means, but…” she trailed off, but everyone knew what she meant. People disappearing hadn’t exactly meant good news lately. As far as they were concerned, Aaron was gone.

It was with somewhat more of a gloomy air that they finished lunch, silence falling between the group. Angelica and Peggy offered to wash up, Eliza went upstairs to check on John, and Alex, realising he wasn't going to be needed any time soon, headed outside to check on the wardings around the cottage. Angelica had done it this morning, he knew, and her spellwork was far better than his own, but it gave him something to do. It was either that or be left alone with his thoughts. Surprisingly enough, he chose the wardings.

Alex climbed the up the beach, murmuring incarnations as he went and watching the air flicker in response, and was just about to head back inside when he heard a noise over the crashing waves. He followed it, wand at the ready, to the top of a sand dune, only to let out a sigh of relief when he saw who it was.

“Theo? What are you doing? I know the death-eaters won’t find us out here, but you’ve got to stay inside the-“

Theo was sitting on a piece of driftwood, face in her hands. She looked up at him with red, puffy eyes and the words died in his throat. Because  _ oh, of course. _

Alex came and sat down next to her. For a moment, neither one said a word, and then she laughed emptily. “I know, he’s not worth it, not after everything. I’m being stupid.”

“Aaron saved our lives.” Alex remind her gently. He still had no idea how he felt about his once-friend, but such doubts weren’t what Theo needed to hear right now. “Me and Eliza and John. He knew exactly what would happen to him and he let us go anyway.”

“That doesn't make up for everything he’s done.”

“It doesn’t. But if sacrificing himself was the last thing he did, he was almost a hero for a second.”

“He wasn’t a hero.” Theo wiped her eye on her sleeve. “None of us are. He was just a boy and he was scared.”

“Did you love him?” he asked. It wasn't a fair question, he knew, but nothing about this was fair, and for some reason this mattered. Not least because he knew what losing someone you loved could do to you.

Theo took a while to reply, and when she did it was while looking out over the ocean, and not at Alex. “I did. I still do. Whatever kind of monster that makes me.”

“Maybe that just makes you human. For what it's worth, he was my brother as well. And I don’’t think thats changed.”

He conjured a handkerchief which she took gratefully and blew her nose with, before stopping to examine the green fabric.

“Really, Alex? A Slytherin one?”

“Yeah, and look at that, you snotted right over the little snake there. Go Theo.”

She laughed, which Alex chalked up as a win, and he stood up, offering his hand. “C’mon. Let’s go play our hundredth game of cards.”

Eliza was waiting for them in the doorway of the beach-hut. “The wardings are still okay?”

“Of course they are. Your sister did them.”

“Good.” she took a deep breath and turned to Alex. “Because John’s awake. And he’s asking for you."

The two of them climbed the stairs in silence. For all Alex had spent the last week or so desperate for a single word from John, he was suddenly afraid to face him. Eliza must have sensed this because she didn't say a word until they were outside the spare room where John was sleeping. Alex made to open the door, and Eliza held out a hand to stop him.

“How’s Theo doing?”

“How do you think she’s doing? She loves him, ‘Liza.”

“And that makes it even worse.”

“This isn't about Theo, is it?” Alex asked, trepidation building at the expression on her face.

“It’s about John.”

“Why?” Alex asked, panicking. “Is he okay?”

“No. It’s about John and you. And you and me.”

Alex deflated, and leaned back against the wall. He hadn't had the time nor the headspace to find an answer about what the fuck did the three of them do now. But it seemed that Eliza, as she often was, was one step ahead of him. She sighed, then said “I’m ending things between us.”

“What?”

“I’m not going to make you chose, and I won’t compete with him. John just came back from the dead, for Merlin’s sake, and it was always him as far as you were concerned. I was just… a shadow.”

“That’s not true.” Alex insisted, because it honestly wasn’t. How could Eliza, beautiful, brilliant human that she was, think she could mean so little  to him?

“So you don’t love him?”

“Of course I love him! But I love you as well. You don’t cancel each other out, it doesn't work like that!” 

In the darkness of the corridor, Eliza’s expression was unreadable. There was a pregnant pause before she said “Maybe you’re right. And maybe we could make this work, somehow. But I don’t think I want to. I was going to end things between us anyway before the Burr mansion.”

Alex blinks. “You were? Why?”

“Because the chances are we won’t make it to the end of the year, and it’s even less likely that we’ll both make it. I love you with all my heart, but I’m not  _ in _ love with you. But if we carried on any longer, I might be. And then losing you would truly break me. I’m not like you, Alex. I can’t just keep soldiering on. We’re going to need every wand we can get before this is over, and I can’t fight if I’m spending everyday terrified of losing you. There’s no room for helpless in a war.”

“What are you saying, ‘Liza?”

“We agreed no goodbyes. So I’m not saying goodbye. I’m just… letting you go.”

He stared at her, at this girl… no this woman standing in  front of him, and wondered how he had ever been worthy of her love in the first place. He wanted desperately to argue, to tell her that she was wrong and that this could work and that he was desperate not to loose her. But Eliza had made her choice. And she had always been better than he’d deserved.

“Go in there.” she gestured at the door. “He wants to talk to you.”

“Alex turned her hand over in his, then leaned forward to kiss her on the cheek. “You are the best of women.” he whispered, lips an inch from her skin. “Truly.”

 

 

The low murmuring of voices on the other side of the door dragged John from a half- sleep. He groaned against the pillow, and wondered if there was any chance of drifting off again. Probably not, his head had already started to pound. He guessed it was awake and in pain, then.

The sound of a conversation came again from outside and, although he couldn't hear the words, he was pretty sure it was Alex and Eliza. He’d recognise those voices anywhere. After everything… well, he hadn't thought he’d ever hear either of them again. He let the sound wash over him, too tired to try and work out what they were talking about, and a moment later it was Alex who walked in, alone.

“Hey, John.” he whispered. “You awake?”

“No.”

He heard a surprised puff of laughter, and Alex sat down on the chair next to his bed. The silence between them was surprising strained.

“How are you feeling?” Alex asked eventually, giving his hand a squeeze.

“Like my head’s been trampled by a dragon. And unfortunately I know what that feels like.”

Alex smiled, and God, how he had missed that. “Do you want something for it? I’m not sure my healing spells are good enough, but we’ve got muggle medicine, or water, or I could call someone, or-“

“It wouldn’t help.” John said. “Not with this kind of headache.”

“John…” Alex’s voice was impossibly soft, a tone that seems incompatible with the hurricane of a boy he used to know, and John wonders just what has happened to him in the intervening years. “What did they do to you?”

“Do we have to talk about this right now?” John asked, aware how childlike he sounds. Because he desperately, desperately didn’t want to tell Alex the answer, to bring that horror into this room and watch it spread across Alex’s face. To watch Alex pull away from him in disgust. The light was soft in here, the bed soft and Alex here when John had thought he’d never see him again. All he wanted was to live in this moment for a little longer and forget the darkness that was about to come crashing down on them.

“We kind of do, yeah.” Alex said reluctantly. “We’ve spent all year trying to find a way to kill the Mad King. And to do that we need to know how he came back. So we need to know what happened.”

“You’ve been trying to kill him? Are you insane? You could have gotten yourselves killed!”

“It’s the only way this war is ever going to end. I don’t know how much you know but… it’s bad out there, John, really bad. People are going missing every day, Theo had to leave Hogwarts because it’s not safe for muggleborns. We don’t even know if Herc’s still alive, or Laf, or…” he took a deep breath, and John was shocked to see the vulnerability in his expression. “We’ve got to make it stop. Whatever it takes. Please.”

“You’re not going to want to know this,” John warned, a pointless last ditch attempt to save him the pain if only for a little longer.

“I know.”

“Okay then.” John propped himself up on the pillows, wincing a little from the effort. “This headache? It’s not really a headache. It’s the King.” John tapped a finger to his temple and and grimaced. “It’s… he’s in here, with me.”

“You were possessed?” Alex asked sharply, and of course he’d think that, given what Eliza had been through.

“More like infected.”

It was the best word John had been able to come up with, in the years he’d spent with little else to do than think through what was happening to him. The King was an ever present itch under his skin, in the back of his mind and running through his veins, and John had no idea how to claw him out. 

Alex was watching him with an expression halfway between horrified and confused, all that John had been desperately trying to spare him.. “What are you talking about?”

How could he even begin to explain? “You’ve got to understand, to bring someone back from the dead like that… it’s dark magic, Alex. Warped, fucked up magic, they needed me to make it happen.”

“Why you, though? We guessed that it had something to do with your father having to kill someone he cared about, or…?”

“My father doesn’t care about me.” The words came out harsher than John intended. “Cares about the idea of me, maybe, but… that wasn’t it. Do you remember when you woke up from being petrified at the end of second year? And my hand was all bandaged up?”

“I… vaguely?” Alex frowned, clearly nonplussed. “From when you guys saved Eliza?”

“I cut my hand smashing that bloody necklace that was controlling her. The one that had the last memories of the King in. I don’t know if it was some kind of curse, or a part of his consciousness, or whatever, but it must have got into the cut, and, well.”

“Oh,  _ John _ . They’ve been using you as… what, some kind of  fucking blood bag? For what, transfusions?” John couldn’t bare to look at Alex’s face, at the pity that welled up behind his eyes. Instead he trained his eyes on their fingers intertwined on the bed sheets.  Because Alex still didn’t understand the worst of it.

“No. The king didn’t need my blood.”

“Hey.” Alex squeezed his fingers. “Tell me. Whatever it is, we can work it out.”

John chewed the words around in his mouth for a moment, before summoning all his courage and spitting them out. “He needed my body.”   
  


“He what?”

It was as if Alex had forgotten how to breathe. He didn’t jerk his hand away from John’s but his whole body stiffened. Because it was impossible, what John was insinuating. This was his John, back from the dead by some fucking miracle and looking at him with eyes that could never belong to anyone else, he couldn’t possibly-

“Sometimes I’m me,” John said eyes not meeting Alex’s. “And sometimes it’s him instead. He takes over, and it’s like I’m trapped in my own brain and all I can do is watch-”

“Watch?” Alex asks abruptly. Because what John is describing is worse than he could have ever imagined, but he’s got a more pressing concern. “Can he see us right now?”

“No.”

“Are you-”   
“I’m sure. This is still my damned body and I can keep him down most of the time. I can tell if he’s awake, for want of a better word, and I’d never have let you come in here if he was watching.”

Alex nodded, although he was far from reassured. As if the idea of a monster wearing John’s face wasn’t horrifying enough, he wasn’t sure if he’d even be able to look at him without wondering if the Mad King was looking back.

“So, how does it work?” He asked, because he somehow couldn’t find the words to tell John how sorry he was for letting him go through this alone. “The death-eaters keep you locked away until the King manages to kick you out of your own body?”

“Pretty much.” John smiled grimly. “They weren’t expecting me to put up this much of a fight. This kind of magic…. I don’t think anyone has ever tried it before, and the death eaters thought I’d just disappear or something. The look on their faces when I refused to turn into a homicidal maniac was the best thing about that stupid cellar.”

“You’re beating him, then? Can you keep him out for good?” And Alex hated the tiny spiral of hope that blossomed inside him. He knew better by now than to let himself believe that this could possibly be so simple. He’d believed that he had a brother back, only to watch him die. He’d beleived he’d gotten John back, only to find out there was a monster living in his head. Happy endings weren’t a thing that just happened.  But all the same…

“I don’t know. It’s getting harder. If anything, the King’s getting stronger every day.”   
  
  
  


 

  * **They fill the others in on what happened to John, and they’re all equally horrified but at least they finally know how the Mad King was able to return. Eliza feels incredibly guilty - it was trying to save her all those years ago that started this whole thing - and everyone tells her not to be ridiculous. They sit around the small kitchen wrapped in blankets and drinking hot chocolate (because Alex is a sap at heart), trying to work out what their next move is. “It’s obvious, isn’t it?” John asks from where he sits in the corner, fingers laced around his mug and half-leaning on Alex. “Our next move is to kill me.”**



 

  * **Back at Hogwarts, and Hercules is doing his best to keep his head down. He’s disbanded all Revolution activities for the time being with their numbers so low and Angelica gone, and the evidence of his torture in every pained move he makes. It had lasted far longer than it took them to realise he had no idea where Alex and Eliza were, and he’s not scared to go through it again, he’s scared that they’ll do the same to Hugh if he doesn’t keep in line, at least in appearance. He sits up with his brother, letting Hugh clean the deep gashes on his back, and wonders if he’ll be able to do enough to keep him safe.**



 

  * **Everyone immediately rejects John’s comment, with Peggy looking at him like he’s grown two heads and Alex just gripping his sleeve with white knuckles. John is unperturbed. They just unwittingly kidnapped the Mad King, and there won’t be a death eater out there who’s not currently hunting them down.  It’s a miracle that they haven’t been found already, and as long as John’s here everyone is in danger. More to the point, this is what they’ve been looking for. A way to kill the king, and here his body is, one who won’t put up any fight.**



 

  * **Of course, this is an unacceptable solution as far as Alex is concerned. Angelica, meanwhile, says that she’s not sure that  such an extreme measure would do the job. They have no idea how this possession works, and if it’s similar to the way that inferi are able to move corpses, any attempt to kill the king might just kill John and give him full control of the body.  Instead they agree that the best course of action for now is to work out a way to break the spell and get the King out of John’s head, but that’s not going to be easy. The only person they can think of who could begin to understand such obscure magic is Washington, but no one’s seen him since he disappeared from Hogwarts. It’s a plan, at least, and looking for the headmaster gives some sense of objective against the overwhelming sense of hopelessness.**



 

  * **They do agree that they can’t all stay with John given how big of a target he is. The death-eaters know he’s with Eliza and Alex, and it’s only a matter of time before they track down all of the Schuyler’s safehouses.. It’s agreed that Angelica and Peggy will try and reach out to Washington through Philip’s old contacts, Theo will make contact with the French Revolution to see if they know where he is (being both fluent and able to use the muggle Eurostar without attacking attention) while Alex and John will disappear into the muggle world. They all say goodbye, and it’s difficult to convince themselves they’ll all see each-other again.**



 

  * **Theo catches the train to Paris and does her best not to think about the summer she spent teaching Aaron how to use the rail network. Even walking through the streets, to all intents and purposes a muggle, it’s easy to see the black cloud hanging over the city.**



 

  * **Angelica and Peggy reach their father in one of his safehouses, and it’s a very emotional reunion. The worst moment is when he asks if they’ve seen Eliza, or at least if they know if she’s alive, and they have to lie. The fewer people who know that she and Alex have the King, the better. It’s not that they don’t trust their father, but information can be tortured out of anyone if it comes to it, and he’s far safer not knowing how close they are to ending this war.**



 

  * **Eliza is all for carrying on camping around the country, but John warns them that he can feel the king beginning to scratch away in his head, and they need to get somewhere secure that will give no clues to their location when he finally takes over. It’s through lack of all other options that Alex finds himself knocking on a door in the back streets of Lewisham in the early hours of the morning. “Hey, Ned.” He smiles grimly. “We need your help.”**



 

  * **Ned has all but taken over running the pub he used to work weekend shifts in, which incidentally is the same one that he and Alex used to sneak into with transfigured IDs. It would be funny under other circumstances, but right now all that Alex cares about is that it’s nowhere the death-eaters would ever look, and that it has a cellar. Ned is clearly beyond confused, and there’s no way that Alex can explain in terms he’d understand, but he agrees to help anyway, and Alex would have loved him for that alone. Now there’s nothing to do but to make John as comfortable and as secure as possible, and wait for the King to arrive.**



 

 

“Are you sure there’s nothing else I can do to help?” Ned asked, handing Alex a stack of blankets. “I’ve got my first aid qualifications and everything now.” They were standing in the kitchen, not the pub’s kitchen but the one in his small flat upstairs, consisting of a kettle, a microwave, and one dubious gas hob. It wasn’t much, but it was Ned’s, and he was proud of this life he’d built for himself. It was more than a lot of the kids he grew up with would ever get. And a world completely alien to Alex’s. A part of him had always known that one day Alex would go where he couldn’t follow, but Ned had been thinking more along the lines of university, or some fancy job rather than an invisible war raging all around the country. He wouldn’t believe it, if not for the fact that Alex had teleported him halfway across London and disappeared into the night on a broomstick.

And far more importantly, Alex wouldn’t lie to him about this.

“You’ve done enough.” Alex grimaced. “And it’s not safe for you to go down there right now. We can’t risk John seeing your face.”

“He saw me when you came in.”

“That was different, he was still… It’s complicated.”

“Complicated?” He wasn’t too proud to admit that the word came out a squeak. “You turn up on my doorstep out of the blue with the girl who whisked you away on a broomstick, and a guy who looks like he’s on death’s door, and you ask to lock him up in my basement. Just tell me one thing, would you? Are you guys doing the right thing here?”

Alex paused that moment too long before nodding, and Ned did his best not to read into it. “I should get back down there. Eliza shouldn’t be on her own when the King arrives.”

“Sure. Hey, Alex?”

“Hmm?”

“It really is good to see you.”

Something that could have been a smile, or maybe just surprise flickered across Alex’s face, too fast for Ned to examine. And then he was gone, leaving Ned standing in his cramped kitchen and wondering just what the hell he was doing. 

  
  


 

In retrospect, Eliza considered, it had been cruel to choose a basement. They hadn’t any choice in finding somewhere secure and muggle enough not to be traced, but the discomfort was clear across every inch of John’s face as he looked around the room that so resembled his prison of two years. She couldn’t help it, though, the tiny shard of her that only found grim satisfaction in the sight whenever she remembered that the King could well be watching her out of those eyes. It was terrible, she knew. This was John, for fucks sake. Her friend, and the reason that they’d started fighting this war, and someone who didn’t deserve all the things he’d suffered. 

And yet.

“Are they tight enough?” She asked, flicking her wand with a flourish as the ropes finished securing John to a chair. It was crude, sure, but a precaution they had to take all the same. 

He tugged experimentally. “Sure. Where’s Alex?”

“Making sure we have enough supplies. Once-” She paused, choosing her words carefully. “Once the King arrives, we’re not leaving this room. And seeing as you can’t tell us how long that will be...”

“He can’t watch me, I can’t watch him, and there wasn’t exactly a clock in Burr’s cellar. We could be talking hours, days, anything. I can’t ask you to stay in here with the King the whole time.

“If you think I’m going to leave that man unsupervised for a single second, you’ve got another thing coming.” Eliza deliberately curls her hand into a fist and flexes it again, forcing the sound of high pitched laughter out of her head. “And Alex? He’s scared you won’t come back again.”

“And you’re not?”

“Of course I am. But Alex is terrified. He lost you once, and I’m not sure what it would do to him to do that again.”

“Do you love him?”

John asked the question casually as if inquiring about her weekend plans, and Eliza could only stare. 

“What?”

“Alex.” He said the two syllables slowly as if stating the obvious. “It’s a fair question.”

For a whole half second Eliza considered lying, denying that she felt anything for the boy that John had spent years in love with besides friendship. But she couldn’t do it. John deserved far more than that. “I love him.” She said softly. “I’m still not sure in what way or if it even matters, but… yes.”

She wasn’t entirely sure what she was expecting. John to shout at her, maybe, to tell her that she’d betrayed him, or to be upset that Alex’s feelings were divided in this way. Instead he only smiled, an absent little twist of the lips. “That’s good. I’m happy for you guys, really.’

“What?”

“You were always the best of us, from that first day you almost got expelled trying to stop me and Alex hurting ourselves. And he’s going to need someone.”

“He’s got you.”

It would be too generous to call the little huff of air a laugh. “There’s a King in my head, ‘Liza. Do you honestly expect me to survive  this?”

Eliza wasn’t sure what the hell she was supposed to say to that, but as it happened she never had the chance to find out. The door opened with a clang, and there was no way she was going to have this conversation in front of Alex. 

“How are you doing?” He asked John, crossing immediately to his side.

“Peachy.” The reply came through gritted teeth. “Not long now. I can feel him.”

“We’re going to be right here the whole time.”

“That’s what I’m worried about.”

“Oh John…” Alex ran a hand gently over his arm, only to pull back as John tensed all over. Even from across the dim room, Eliza could see the panic in his eyes.

“You might not want to watch this,” John warned. Alex ony moved to lock the door. “It was worth a try. You always were a stubborn- agghh!”

John’s fond frustration tailed off in a cry of pain and he screwed his eyes shut, head slumping forward. Alex made to touch him again and Eliza caught his wrist. It was clearly starting, whatever fresh hell it was, and there was nothing more that either of them could do for John. Soon enough, it wouldn’t even be John sitting in that chair.

She wasn’t sure how much time passed, but Eliza was sure that she would never quite be able to shake the horror of watching John write against his restraints. Even if she made it through this war, the sound of John’s cries would be lodged in her memory alongside the sound of the King laughing and the way that her father’s voice broke at her mother’s funeral. What Ned must think (because this basement was the best they could come up with given the circumstances but it wasn’t soundproof by any means), Eliza had no idea, but she didn’t much care. 

Eventually, the screams gave way to rattling sobs, which gave way to nothing at all. And Eliza quickly decided that the quiet was the worst of all. He sat, head bowed, and for all the world John could be sleeping. Or something far worse.

“John?” Alex asked tentatively, shattering the silence.

Slowly, so painfully slowly, he raised his head. Blinked. Looked from Eliza to Alex, then back again. 

And smiled.

And Eliza had never been so comforted by the weight of her wand,  nor the knowledge of what she could do with it. Because that was enough to be sure that it wasn’t John looking back at them any more.

“Well,” said the King. He spoke slowly, as if flexing his new vocal chords. “This is a surprise.”


	19. Chapter 19

  * Theo manages to make contact with the French resistance, and it’s even worse than she could have imagined. They’re down to a handful of fighters, battle weary and sure they’re going to loose, and she’s expecting to be told that Laf’s dead at any moment. So when she eventually finds him with a curse wound to the leg but somehow alive, it’s a shock. The two get eachother up to date, and Laf cries when she tells him that John’s alive but is slowly turning into the mad king. He only grimaces when Theo asks if he knows where to find Washington, though. “He’s here,” Laf says slowly, “But I do not know how much help he’s going to be.”



 

 

“I don’t suppose there’s any point in asking where I am?” The King asked, and Eliza couldn’t help but shudder. Everything about this was wrong, and she wasn’t sure what it was exactly that made her want to run for the door. The fact that he could wear John’s face and yet look nothing like her friend, the almost conversational tone, the knowledge of what the man sitting in front of them had done… Eliza stayed where she was.

Next to her, Alex had paled, and she reached for his hand before answering for both of them. “None.”

“No matter.” He glanced around the room. “I can wait. There are only so many places where a baby Schuyler and a baby Hamilton could be hiding, and my men will catch up with you soon enough.”

“You know who we are?” Alex’s voice was that little bit higher than usual.

“Of course. You look so very like your father. So very like your brother, too. Handsome boy, wasn’t he? Such a pity that dear James-”

“You don’t talk about him.”

The King made a gesture that, if not tied to a chair, could have been a mockery of a bow. “But of course. You have all the power here, after all. What shall we talk about instead? How about a catch up, Elizabeth? You have grown up so much since we last spoke.”

“I have nothing to say to you.”

“No?” He cocked his head. “I’m disappointed. We were so close. Almost of the same mind, one could say.”

“That’s enough.”

“Am I still in there, do you think?” He leaned forward, eyes that held only darkness in place of John’s light boring into Eliza’s. “Scratching away at the back of your mind? Whispering in your ear in a voice you’ve convinced yourself is your own?”

“I said enough!”

“You and I are one and the same, Elizabeth Schuyler. You tied poor Johnny to a chair because you thought he was the monster, what what if it was really just you?”

Eliza’s fingers curled around her wand, but the blast of red light didn’t come from her. Alex’s outstretched arm was trembling, and it was only when Eliza placed a hand over his that he lowered his wand. The stunning spell had hit the King square in the chest with enough force to tip the chair over backwards.

“What the hell was that?”

‘He needed to shut up.” Alex said. “This whole plan was a mistake. We should just keep him unconscious until John comes back, and-”

The sound of high pitched laugher cut him off. “Unconscious? Please.” The King spoke between gasps of breath and giggles. “You’re going to have to do something far worse than stunning me if you want to keep me quiet.”

“Alex, get out.” Eliza said.

“What?”

“I think Elizabeth wants some alone time with me,” The King said, still on the floor, and Eliza ignored him.

“Take ten. Clear your head. You’ve just shown him that he can get under your skin in less than two minutes and that’s the last thing we need.”

“But-”

“I’ll be fine. And I’ll yell if anything changes.” A pause. “Please?”

Alex watched her for a long moment before leaving without a word, and Eliza did her best not to hate herself for it. Because however much it was in Alex’s best interests not to be in this room right now, she new exactly how to play him after seven years, and that there was very little she couldn’t ask of him. The little girl that Alex met on a broomstick was long gone, and the man to blame was currently tied to a chair on the floor.

She waited until the telltale clang of Alex locking the door behind him before hauling the King upright again.

“How very kind,” he said, far too close to her ear for comfort, and it was all Eliza could do not to follow Alex out of the room. Instead, she crossed to another chair sitting in one corner and sat down, making an obvious show of laying her wand across her knee.

The Mad King eyed it knowingly. “Are you going to kill me, Elizabeth Schuyler?”

“I don’t know.” It was the truth after all. 

“Because now would be the best time to do it. Who knows when dear Alexander will leave the two of us alone again, and I very much doubt you have it in you to murder your when it’s Johnny working the controls.” He smiled. “You can close your eyes if you want. I won’t tell anyone. That way you won’t have to look John Laurens in the eye as you kill him.”

“I’m not looking at John Laurens. You may be wearing his face, but there’s not an inch of him in you.”

“And yet you’d kill him all the same.” Eliza forces herself to keep looking at him, but something of the guilt eating away at her insides for even considering it must show on her face. “Oh, don’t misunderstand me, Elizabeth. I would never judge you. It’s the smart thing to do. Some may even say the right thing. One flick of your wand and no one else has to die for this war. You’d be a hero.”

“I’d be a murderer,” she countered. 

“Semantics. You don’t really believe that you can keep your hands clean in a fight like this. Your father is a murderer, and your teachers, and your friends off fighting on the front line. The walls are going to come crashing down soon, and everyone still standing when the dust clears will have to kill to be there. Why not do it sooner rather than later?”

Eliza swallowed, and for one moment she imagined it. Raising her wand and taking the chance to end it all here and now. It may not work, but she could try. She imagined John’s body unmoving, head bowed and hazel eyes unseeing. The look of horror on Alex’s face. Explaining to her sisters what she had to do to keep them safe. She thought of the way that John had asked them to kill him, and had looked so confused at the suggestion that he shouldn’t lay his life on the line for the greater good. 

And then she looked at the King, at the smile that accompanied five years of nightmarish laugher in her head. 

“Because it’s what you would do.”

“Come now, enough with playing nobel. What’s one life against so many?”

“Everything.”

“You’ll change your mind. I know about you Elizabeth, how you’ve spent the year hiding away. When you see the toll this war has taken, you’ll think differently.”

_ You’re wrong,  _ Eliza wanted to say except she didn't trust her voice to remain steady. Instead she asked “Why are you doing this?”

“I’ve no better way to pass the time.”

“No, really.”

The King sighed and looked up at her, and Eliza didn't’t think she’d ever been more afraid. Because the look he gave her, eyes impossibly soft and face tinged with a hint of longing, it was almost human. For a second, she saw a flash of John in the face of the madman. “I spent a year inside your mind. You were the first person to speak to me in twelve years. And you were… kind.”

“You tried to kill me,” she accused, more taken aback than anything.

“Necessity. I knew you would never side with me if I had asked. But I would have regretted it, a world without you in it. That’s not the world I want to build.”

Eliza shuddered. “I want nothing to do with your world. What the hell do you think we’re fighting against?”

“You don’t know yourself. I’ll give your little revolution this, you’ve fought gallantly. But you’re mistaken. The final battle of this war won’t be in Paris, or London, on some great field. It will be in your head. The day that Elizabeth Schuyler realises that we’re on the same side is the day that this foolish fight will finally be over.”

 

 

  * Laf leads Theo through the makeshift hospital they’ve got set up, and she almost doesn’t recognise Washington at first. He’s thin and hurt bad, never really recovered from his injuries and made worse by continuing to fight. He does smile when he sees Theo though - one more student he hasn’t failed yet. When she explains John’s problem and asks for his help, though, he shakes his head. “I’m so sorry, Miss Prevost, but there’s nothing to be done. We’re finished.”



 

  * Once Theo is gone, Laf rounds on him. He’s never had an argument with his pseudo-father before, but rage and fear comes bubbling out all at once. He tells Washington that he’s not allowed to give up now, that there are too many people counting on him and that he needs him, and that he’s going to keep fighting for that last bit of good in the world until it kills him, no matter what Washington does.



 

  * When Alex comes back down to the cellar, the King stops talking, but Eliza can’t stop thinking about what he said, and wondering how much of the monster was left behind in her head in second year. It takes two days for John to fight his way back into control of his body, and they are among the worst of Alex and Eliza’s lives. When John weakly asks for some water, in a voice that’s so painfully him, Alex can’t help but cradle his face and kiss him. It’s only their second kiss, but the years melt away like they never happened, and neither boy sees Eliza’s expression, horrified at what she so nearly destroyed.



 

  * Laf is sitting with Theo and Adrienne when the hospital comes alive with whispers. They turn around to see Washington walking towards them, limping and leaning heavily on a cane but up for the first time in a week and with a fire that Laf had almost forgotten dancing behind his eyes. “Shall we make a plan?” he asks.



 

  * It’s a tight squeeze, the four of them in Ned’s small flat, especially as no one wants to step foot in the basement right now. Ned doesn’t ask about what happened down there, just as he doesn’t ask about the strange, stretched out dynamic between his three guests, and Alex has no idea what he ever did to deserve such a good friend. With nothing they can do for the war except hide, they pass the time by swapping embarrassing stories about Alex and explaining various components of their worlds. Eliza’s three years of muggle studies means that she has a much firmer grasp than John. but it still takes almost a whole meal to explain reality tv to her, which of course must be followed by a marathon of all the worst examples possible. Sandwiched between Ned and John on a couch designed for less than four people, while Jeremy Kyle shouts from the screen, Alex can almost let himself forget the war and just be happy.



 

  * There’s an ambush on the resistance group Angelica and Peggy are staying with, and their first taste of war is simultaneously everything and nothing like training. There’s no preparing for the fear pumping through your veins, the stench of charred flesh from fighters standing too close to the explosion that breaks the door down, but when Angelica points her wand, death eaters go down the same way that training dummies do. When it’s all over, she has no idea if she’s killed anyone or not, but thinks that it really should be harder than it is.



 

  * Washington explains that they’re dealing with a very dark branch of soul magic, and he can think of no use of light magic to counter it. “What about dark magic?” Adrienne asks, something she wouldn’t have even considered voicing a year ago, before she watched her city fall and friends die. Washington curses, not daring to believe that a solution could possibly be so simple. Because there’s one artifact of the Mad King’s that’s been in his position for years now, one that works by seeking the deepest desires of a person’s soul. And it’s been sitting at Hogwarts this whole time. “Are you still using those Muggle communication devices?” Laf asks Theo. “Then send out a mass text. We’re going back to school.”



 

  * They’ve been at Ned’s almost a week, and the confinement is starting to get to everyone. Eliza keeps shooting Alex meaningful looks and hissing “Talk to him,”, but it's difficult to have a private conversation with four people living in a one person flat. Alex really shouldn’t be surprised, then when Eliza volunteers to come with Ned to restock the pub at a nearby wearhouse. Strictly speaking, none of them should be showing their faces outside, but it’s highly doubtful that the death eaters are monitoring something so muggle. 



 

 

“Tea?” Alex asked John for the third time in an hour, desperate to do something with the nervous energy coiled around his gut.

“I’m fine, honestly.”

“Or something else? I could make lunch, or do you want some water, or-”

“Alex, leave it.” John smiled ruefully, and tapped the sofa cushion next to him. “Just come and sit, would you?” 

Alex did just that and John curled up next to him, tucking his head into Alex’s chest like it was the most natural thing in the world. Could he hear Alex’ heart racing? It had been a little under a month since the Burr Mannon, and Alex was still floored at the slightest proximity to John. Hell, he still couldn’t quite believe that John was here at all, but he was fast realising that he had no idea where they went from here. They hadn’t kissed again, hadn’t done more than sit a bit closer than necessary to one another and squeeze each others hands for reassurance as much as for anything else. And it was because of more than just the crowded house. 

Alex had spent two and a half miserable years loving the memory of John, and it would be unfair to hold him to that now he was here, living and breathing and curled up next to him.

God, they needed to talk. Eliza, as always, was right.

“Hey, John?”

John didn’t respond, and for a moment Alex wondered if he’d fallen asleep. John had been doing a lot of that lately. It clearly took a lot of energy to keep the King out of his head, and Alex could only imagine what horrors stalked his dreams. After a long pause, though, John said “Hmm?”

“Can I talk to you for a moment?”

Thee must have been something in his voice, because John sat up to look him in the eyes. “Are you okay?”

“Maybe. I need to… What’s happening here? With us, I mean? I know we’re in the middle of a war, but you and me? This matters, and I’ve got to know.”

“What do you want to be happening?”

There was no point in dodging the question. “I want to be with you, in whatever way we can make it work. I want to kiss every one of your stupid freckles. I want to hold you and never have to let you go again because it damn near killed me the last time and I’m not doing it again.”

“Alex.” John’s voice was gentle. “The chances that we both make it out of this-”

Alex gripped his hand so tight that it probably hurt, but John didn’t make any noise of protest. “I don’t care. I-” He swallowed, summoned every ounce of courage he could muster. “I love you, John. So much it hurts, and I have for years now, and I promise there are no expectations on you if that’s not how you feel, but I’m not going to lie to you about it.”

“Not how I…? Merlin, you’re an idiot.” John shook his head fondly, and Alex felt like he should protest, except John’s free hand was fidgeting with the hem of Alex’s t-shirt and he’d momentarily forgotten how to speak. “Of course I love you. I just don’t want you to have to lose me again. I could die tomorrow”

_ If you die tomorrow, I won’t be far behind. _ Alex caught  the words on his tongue, because that was sure as hell not what John needed to hear right now. Instead, he said “We both could. But that still gives us the whole of today. As many todays as we have left.”

John swallowed. His fingers tightened around the fabric of Alex’s shirt and his eyes darted quickly down to Alex’s lips and back. 

“Hey, John?”

“Yeah?”

“Don't panic, but I’m going to kiss you now.”

John barely had time to nod before Alex leant forward and pressed their lips together. John relaxed against him, eyes fluttering shut, and Alex wrapped a hand around his back, pulling him closer. Pulling John right onto his lap, really, and it didn’t even occur to Alex that he should be embarrassed or awkward about this, not with John’s tongue sliding over his own and their hearts beating out in frantic tandem. 

John’s hand slipped under Alex’s t-shirt and for a moment he paused, eyes meeting Alex’s in a wordless question. Alex didn’t trust himself to speak right now, instead opting for kissing him again in the hopes that his movements could say what his words couldn’t. It proved to be a very effective method of communication; John slid his hand slowly over Alex’s stomach, exploring. When he reached a nipple, Alex couldn’t help but gasp, arching into the touch and letting his head fall back from the shere fucking overwhelmingness of it all. Because this was  _ John _ , John’s free hand tangled in his hair, John’s mouth making the most of his bared neck to trail kisses down it, John shifting his weight above Alex, and dear fucking God,  _ that _ was definitely John as well.

The Mad King would have to get in line. John Laurens was going to be the absolute death of him.

“Hey.” John had paused his exploration, but his voice right in Alex’s ear and breathless was enough to make him shiver. “You with me? If you need to, we can stop, and-”

“Don’t you dare. I need… anything, you, please-”

John smiled, and Alex didn’t think that he’d ever seen anything more beautiful in his life. He withdrew his hands from under Alex’s shirt, and Alex let out a noise of protest that most definitely wasn’t a whine, before John rested them on his hips instead. “I think we can do something about that.”

 

 

“Do you think your friend will be pissed?” John asked, much, much later.

“We are never telling Ned about this. Ever. I can’t afford to buy him a new sofa.”

 

 

  * They’re interrupted by the sound of a text alert, and Alex belatedly realises that he’d never gotten around to telling John about the Revolution in Hogwarts, let alone explained to him how a mass text works as he dives for his burner phone. It’s Theo, and Washington might have a way to seperate John and the King long enough to kill him, but they’re going to need to get back into the castle. Eliza and Ned get back ten minutes later, and Eliza already knows.



 

  * Ned tries to persuade them to stay, but he already knows it’s impossible. If Alex couldn’t be dissuaded in the summer, he’s sure as hell not about to give up now. They hug, and then the three of them disappear with a crack, blinking a moment later in the sunlight of a hilltop overlooking Hogwarts. Alex has missed it so much it hurts, and John? Well, he never thought he’d see this place again, and if he hurriedly wipes his eyes on his sleeve, no one comments. “How the hell are we supposed to get in there?” Alex asks. “It’s… well, it’s  literally a castle.” Eliza just shakes her head. “You weren’t listening to a word Angelica said, were you? We already have a way in.”



 

  * The Revolution’s tunnel comes out by the lake, and Alex realises too late that they’re going to have to go past John’s grave to get there. He tries to usher John away from it, but he pulls away and crosses to the simple grey stone that bears his name. Somehow it’s not any easier knowing that it’s empty. No one says anything, but Eliza stands on one side and squeezes John’s hand, and Alex stands on his other and rests his head on his shoulder, and the world seems a little lighter. Until the first curse explodes over their heads.



 

  * It’s two of Adams’ lackeys, and the three of them manage to be taken completely by surprise. If not for Angelica and Peggy arriving at exactly that moment and stunning them, they would have been screwed. “Honestly,” Peggy says, sweeping a braid very much like Eliza’s from her face. “Why did we ever trust you three with the fate of the wizarding world?” Angelica, meanwhile, is watching the castle. “Someone will have noticed that,” she says. “Get in, now.”



 

  * The tunnel is long and winding, and as in Harry Potter leads straight to the Room of Requirement, which has become something of a camp/hospital for the Revolution. Rows of hammocks and death eater dummies stretch out before them, including one area which looks to be a fully kitted out muggle gym, and Alex is so damned thankful for the magic keeping his friends safe and fighting. It’s difficult to say who causes the most uproar when they climb through the portrait hole; Angelica, their leader who many were starting to suspect had abandoned them; Alex and Eliza, the news of who’s capture and escape has done a lot to keep the spark alive; Or John, half the reason for this whole Goddam war, and who should definitely be dead. 



 

Hercules jerked out of his hammock at the first hint of commotion, wand already in his hand. The movement jolted his still-healing ribs, but he barely registered the pain. Still half asleep, all that was flying through his brain was  _ enemy? _ and  _ discovered? _ and  _ Hugh? _ He looked around wildly. There was a mass of bodies crowding around the portrait hole, and by some miracle no one seemed to be hurt. Or even fighting, for that matter. What the hell was going on? He crossed the room at half a hobble, half a jog in the hope that someone would report to him, goddamit, only to stop short at the sight of a familiar set of braids flashing through the crowd. 

“Pegs?” he gasped.

There was no way she could have heard him, what with all the commotion, but he couldn’t quite believe that it was a miracle she chose that moment to turn around. Peggy caught his gaze, and Herc suddenly couldn’t get to her fast enough. Maybe people moved aside as he pushed through them, maybe they didn’t; Herc neither knew nor cared about anything other than the grin on Peggy’s face as he reached her, and the effort not to topple over backwards as she launched herself at him.

“Hey, go easy on me would you?”

She withdrew at once. “Merlin, are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“But your face-” Peggy brushed the skin on the right side of his face and Herc drew her hand away, pressing it to his lips instead. He knew it wasn’t a pretty sight, that he’d carry the marks of Adams’ torture for the rest of his life. He also knew that he didn’t much care. “What did they do to you?”

“Their worst.”

It was a ridiculous line, but it put the smile back on Peggy’s face, and then Herc really had no choice at all but to kiss her. God how he’d missed her, and even the chorus of wolf-whistles that surrounded them wasn’t enough to make him do more than raise a finger in their general direction.

“I can’t believe you’re here,” he whispered into her lips, and Peggy pulled away with a funny sort of smile. 

“I’d save my disbelief if I were you.” She said. “We really need you to stay calm and carry on with your fearless leader routine for the sake of all the kids, but there’s someone else here you need to see.”

“What? Who?”

Peggy said nothing, just jerked her head in the direction she’d been standing. Herc followed her gesture, confused. There was still a heavy throng of people milling around the portrait hole, but after a moment he spotted Eliza, who was watching the proceedings with a grin.

“What the hell is your sister-?” Herc began, but the rest of the sentence got stuck somewhere on the way to his mouth. Because the crowd had shifted enough to see that Eliza was not alone. Standing next to her was Alex, and on her other side…

That was it. Herc had finally snapped with the stress of being responsible for dozens of kids playing soldier. Either that or Adams had actually killed him, and everything since had been some bizarre version of the afterlife. Because there was no other explanation for the fact that John Laurens was standing there, thin and pale but very much not dead.

Herc took a step towards them, only for someone to grab his arm. He turned to see Angelica, expression grim.

“Not here, Chief.” she said.

“But John’s-”

“I know. I’ve had the luxury of time to freak out, and right now that’s something we don’t have. There’s a lot to fill you in on.”

 

  * Angelica drags Herc off to a side room, and has just about gotten him up to speed with John being alive and also the Mad King, when they’re joined by the others. The others being his friends who also happen to make up most of the Revolution’s senior command, at least before everything went to hell this year. This includes Laf and Theo, who arrived a day ago. Theo had told Laf about John, of course, but he didn’t quite dare believe it until he saw him. At least it will look like they’re having a strategy meeting, and not a full blown freak out.



 

“So,” Herc said, face unreadable. “You’ve got the Mad King riding around in there?”

“That’s right.” John looked as if he expected Herc to turn away in disgust, and Alex couldn’t help but run a protective hand up his arm. 

“He listening right now?”

“No.”

“Shame. I’m still hoping for the chance to call him him a poncy  fucker to his face.”

John blinked, clearly unsure what to say to that, and Herc finally smiled.  “Good to have you back, man.”

It didn’t come close to conveying how Herc really felt, but Alex new by now that he was more a man of action rather than words. So when he swept John into a crushing bear-hug, fingers gripping the back of his jacket as if to make sure he was really there, Alex knew that they would be alright.

In that respect, at least.  

In all other respects, they were the furthest thing from alright.

 

 

  * Laf explains that Washington has already gone to mobilize as much of the resistance as is left, but that the key to separating the Mad King might be a soul mirror that the King used to use to drive his enemies mad by showing them how he could give them their deepest desires. It’s a dangerous object, but it just might work. Alex and John only look at eachother, incredulous. “That mirror we found the first Christmas? No fucking way.”



 

  * It’s hidden in the room of lost things, but to get at it, everyone would need to leave the Room of Requirement. That would be a big tip off that something big was happening, although, as Angelica points out, it may be too late for that. The death eaters have been searching for them for weeks now, and there’s no way that the fight in the grounds, nor Washington’s return will go unnoticed. As if to confirm her point, Henry Laurens’ voice echoes across the castle. 



_ ‘We know that you are harbouring my son. This is a betrayal of your king of the highest order, yet your King loves his subjects. Your King is merciful. That is why we are granting you one hour. Return John Laurens to me before the hour is up, and we will leave this castle, and those who shelter within it, unharmed. Fail to do so, and we shall leave none alive.” _

 

  * No one considers givnig John up, not even for a second, but they are still divided on what to do next. Angelica argues that they should evacuate, get everyone out and scatter to various safehouses for as long as they can. Alex argues they should fight, and to his surprise, it’s Theo who sides with him. She saw firsthand the war in Paris, and knows that tonight may be the only chance to end it.



  
  
  
  


Alex dragged Angelica to one side because, out of everyone, he could always rely on her for the truth.

“It’s not going to be enough,” Angelica whispered.

“I know.”

“We’re not going to win this, Alex. We’ve been training for years but we’re still only kids, and if we invite a fight we’re going to be slaughtered”

“I know!” he ran his fingers over his face. “I know, alright? But that doesn't mean we can’t end it. We just need to give John time to kill the King. It’s the only way this can happen.”

“And you’re willing to die for that? To ask these people to die for that?”

He met the challenge in her gaze evenly. “I can’t ask these people to do anything. But I’m staying.”

Before Angelica could reply, there was a loud crash at the other end of the hall, accompanied by the sound of shouting. Both had their wands out in an instant, and raced towards the noise. Alex pushed through the crowds, heart in his mouth, only to stop dead once he saw the cause of the commotion.

“Aaron?” he asked incredulously. 

His fellow Slytherin looked awful. There was no other word for it. His face was a patchwork various shades of purple and red scars, and the self-assured smoothness with which he carried himself was nowhere to be seen. But, somehow, impossibly, he was here.   
Aaron held something up in his hand, and after a moment Alex realised it was a battered mobile. How the hell he’d managed to hold onto it throughout the year was anyone’s guess. “You called?” he said dryly. 

“Holy fuck… “ John said. “How-?”

“Traitor!” Someone yelled and Alex turned to see Theo advancing on Aaron, wand raised and hellfire in her eyes. He moved to put his body between them.

“Hey, calm down!” Alex held up his hands to try and placate the girl but she hardly seemed to see him. She only had eyes for Aaron.

“How dare you show your face here, you slimy fuck?”

“Theo, please-“

She shot a beam of red light at him. Aaron didn't even raise his wand to try and defend himself, and Eliza just managed to cast a shield in time.

“Hey!” he said again, this time a shout. “Let’s all take a moment here and think, shall we?”

“But he’s a redcoat!” a voice called out from the crowd.

“Do you see him wearing red?” Eliza shot back. “Apart from, I don’t know, the scars where they tortured him?”

And still Aaron hadn't said a word in his own defence. People shouted back and forth across the crowd until Herc yelled “Shut up the lot of you!” The effect was instant, and Alex took a moment to marvel how the boy had morphed into a leader in the year since he had seen him. “Why don't we give Burr here a chance to explain himself before we go firing curses at each other?” he suggested, and all eyes turned to the boy in the centre of the room.  Aaron took a deep breath. But when he spoke, he was looking at Theo as if no one else mattered.

“Yeah. I’m a traitor. And a coward. And an idiot who didn't run when he had the chance. And yeah, I’ve spent most of the last year as the death eaters’ whipping boy. I’m not denying it, and I’m not trying to pretend I’m a good person. Some of the things I’ve done…” he trailed off, and his eyes flashed momentarily to John “…well, I’m never going to be able to make up for it. But I made a decision I was going to try. I finally worked out what side I was on, who my real family was, and I expected it to be the last thing I ever did, to be honest.”

“Why wasn't it?” Alex asked. “I mean don’t get me wrong, I’m glad you’re not dead and all, but why the hell didn't they kill you?”

“They came bloody close.” He grimaced. “You’d disappeared, and they couldn't prove I’d let you go on purpose but that didn't really matter. They were angry, and what with… well, Hamilton decided to make an example to prevent any futher changes of hearts.”

Aaron didn’t look at Alex, but he couldn’t help the horribly prickle of guilt. His father was a monster, plain and simple, and if they’d only managed to get a clear shot on him at the Burr mansion, maybe this wouldn’t happen. He wouldn’t make the same mistake again.

“Did you see the Mad King?” Hugh Mulligan asked from the crowd in half-horror, half awe. 

“Did I…?” Aaron trailed off, finally flitting his eyes from Theo to shoot Alex a silent question. He answered with a miniscule shake of the head. They hadn’t told everyone about John. “No, I didn’t. Lucky I’m not important enough for him to waste his time on.

If it was an attempt at humour, it fell flat. Eliza was looking at him with horrified eyes, Alex felt like he wanted to throw up, and Theo still hadn't lowered her wand. Aaron swallowed, licking his dry lips.

“I might not be that good in a fire fight any more, but if you need another wand on your side… Figure I owe that much at least.”

For a moment, no one spoke. Angelica and Hercules glanced at each other, a silent conversation Alex couldn't begin to decipher (and he realised that the two of them really had been leading the students in more than just name while he’d been away) and eventually she nodded, a movement so subtle he almost missed it. 

“You’re with me,” Herc told him. “We’re holding the bridge. I see so much as a hint of bullshit from you and I’m stunning your ass, you got it?”

“Got it.” Aaron replied, and odd echo of relief in his voice even through he still hadn't looked away from Theo. He took a step towards her, only for Peggy to grab her arm and pull her away. Angelica followed, but not before shooting him a look that said  _ don’t you dare _ and he faltered.

“Leave her.” Alex told him. 

“But I-“

“You’ve hurt her enough. It was bad enough when you were just dead.”

“Just dead?”

Alex raised an eyebrow. “I wasn't kidding, you know. I’m really glad you made it.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I know. I was surprised too.”

It was almost reminiscent of the years they spent bickering back and forth without any malice behind the words. There was more than malice behind them now, though, a gulf between the two boys that might well be too broad to ever breach. Aaron must have sensed it, because he looked down at his hands and said “Made it might be a relative term, considering we’re about to fight to the death.”

Alex only sighed and clapped him on the shoulder, walking away to find Angelica again. 

“That’s the spirit, Burr.”   
  


  * The fighting begins in earnest, with Hercules and Theo holding the main bridge, Laf and Adrienne, the tree-line of the forest, and James Madison, Angelica and Peggy taking control of defence from the Astronomy,Ravenclaw and Gryffindor towers respectively. Angelica doesn’t argue that she should be with her sisters, but regrets it as soon as Peggy leaves the room without looking back at her. Alex, John and Eliza meanwhile are going to search for the King’s Mirror and kill him. Alex refuses to talk about what will happen if the mirror doesn’t work, but John takes Eliza’s hand and says “You know it’s tonight or never, right? He’ll understand, in the end.” It’s not difficult to work out what he’s asking of her, and Eliza can’t even manage to hate herself for nodding.



 

  * James Madison bumps into Thomas on the way to his post. Thomas isn’t wearing death eater robes, but he’s not wearing the muggle clothes that identify the Revolution, either. He begs James to leave with him while they still can, and as before James shakes his head with a soft smile. “I chose my side, Thomas. Leave, if you want to leave, but I’m not running. What the hell are you fighting for?” He leaves before Thomas can reply, and it’s only when he’s gone that Thomas whispers “You.” into the empty air.



 

  * Alex, John, and Eliza begin searching for the mirror in the room of hidden things, and they can just hear the sounds of the battle raging outside. It’s in a tense silence that they move through the room, and Alex is about to suggest they split up after half an hour of nothing, when they round a corner to face James Hamilton. All three draw their wands, but Alex throws the other two backwards without so much as taking his eyes off his father (something he learned from JJ)  and tells them to keep looking. James Hamilton has brought him nothing but misery his entire life, and damn if he’s going to let this man hurt anyone else he loves.



 

  * James is a better wizard than Alex without question, but Alex is angry and it’s as if his very magic is lashing out against his father, so they’re pretty well matched. One of Alex’s curses grazes James’ shoulder; James blows up a stack of crates next to Alex and he’s thrown backwards, head ringin and spots dancing before his eyes. Alex eventually manages to overpower his father, and James can only laugh with his son’s wand at his throat and his own thrown hopelessly out of reach. “I’m proud of you, Alexander,” he wheezes. “You’re everything I wanted in a son.” It’s the last thing James Hamilton ever says, and his words will never quite leave Alex for as long as he lives. He’s not sure how long he sits next to James’ body, before he stands and limps to find his friends.



 

  * John and Eliza force themselves to leave Alex and ignore the sounds of James’ laughter that echoes around the room. They eventually find the mirror, and John can feel something inside himself uncoil at the mere sight of it. He should probably say something, but every second they waste, their friends are dying. He takes a deep breath, steps in front of the mirror, and is shocked not to see his own face staring back at him, but a pair of empty blue eyes below blonde curls. “Hi, Johnny,” The King says. “What exactly do you think you’re doing?”



 

  * The battle plan goes to shit about two minutes after the death eaters storm the castle, and Angelica really shouldn’t be surprised. She knew this wouldn’t work, but if they want to stop her protecting the people she loves, they’ll have to kill her. In all the chaos, she somehow ends up holding a courtyard between the Mulligan brothers. She doesn’t notice Hugh fall next to her, but she notices Herc’s wordless scream as he’s a moment too late to catch him. And dear God, no, because Hugh could almost be asleep if not for his eyes, staring into his brother’s face and seeing nothing. If she lives to a hundred years, Angelica knows she will never get the sound of Herc’s curses as she pulls him away from Hugh out of her head. “There’s nothing you can do for him!” ANgelica screams, and something shatters in his expression. She drags him back behind their cracking lines, and wastes half a second on a silent apology before heading back out there. She has to find Peggy.



 

  * “Whatever you’re trying,” The King in the Mirror tells John, “It won’t work. I’m stronger than you. Just give up and save us both the time.” Eliza can’t get any closer, it’s like there’s a field of energy separating her from John who stands perfectly still, eyes locked with a reflection that’s not his own. For a long moment, no one moves. The King smiles, and then someone crashes into him, knocking him backwards. There’s a second John in the mirror, struggling to hold the King in place. 



 

“Kill him, ‘Liza!” Mirror John shouted, face contorted from the effort. Real John didn’t move. “Please, do it now! I can’t hold him much longer!”

She hesitated. They have no idea how this king of magic works, and she’d already proved she wasn’t willing to risk killing John. Hadn’t she?”

_ It’s obvious. Our next move is to kill me. _

_ The day that Elizabeth Schuyler realises that we’re on the same side is the day that this foolish fight will finally be over. _

_ You know it’s tonight or never, right? He’ll understand, in the end. _

Eliza raised her wand. She pointed it at the mirror and just as Alex came running around the corner, she whispered “Reducto.”

It shattered into a thousand shards. And mingled with Alex’s cry of “Wait!” a high pitch scream echoed around the castle, shocked, and furious, and final. 

John crumpled to the floor.

Silence fell.

And just like that, it was over.

 

They tended to their wounded.

 

_ (Both Eliza and Alex race to where John lies unmoving on the cold floor, Alex unaware he’s whispering “Please,” and “No,” and “Fuck, John.” Their eyes meet over him, and for a moment the world shatters around him. Then John coughs. _

_ “Fucking hell, Schuyler,” he mumbles, eyes closed. “You’ve got a mean jinx, you know?.”) _

 

_ (Aaron is in no fit state to be fighting, and at some point even the adrenalin runs out. He’s a beat too slow, gets caught by a curse from behind, and Theo realises that she’s still capable of fear after all. She stands over him, firing curses at any flash of black that moves, and is there when he wakes up three days later. It’s not forgiveness as she takes his hand, not quite, but it’s something.) _

 

_ (It would be so easy, George Washington considers. He has Henry Laurens at wandpoint, empty handed and staring at him with unveiled hatred. One little movement, and he would never be able to hurt his students again. Instead, Washington sends a stunner into his chest and turns away without a word. There will be time for trials and accountability, when they have to put this broken world of theirs back together. And they are going to do it right.) _

 

They counted their dead.

 

_ (Philip Schuyler carefully doesn't look at James Hamilton’s face when they bring him out. He said his goodbyes to his once-friend a long time ago.) _

 

_ (At some point in her vigil over Aaron’s bed, reality catches up with Theo, and she realises that she pointed a wand between Timothy Edwards’ eyes and used the only unforgivable curse of her life without a drop of hesitation. She realises she doesn’t regret it.) _

 

_ (Hercules carves Hugh’s headstone himself.) _

 

_ (Whoever laid Thomas and James out in the Great Hall must have known them, because they lie next to each other. Even in death, with his face splattered with blood that may or may not be his own, the knot of James Madison’s tie is pristine. Their hands don’t quite touch. The inch or so of open air between them speaks louder than any words said in their honour.) _

 

_ (Angelica Schuyler has always been one to achieve her goals. The only one that ever mattered was to keep her sisters safe, and she achieved that one as well. It was the last thing she ever did. Peggy never sees the streak of green aimed at her heart, only know that someone pushes her to the ground, and that Angelica dies with a smile on her face. _

_ She hold Herc, afterwards, and neither can quite find the words to wonder how you’re supposed to move on.) _

 

And after it all, came the terrifying question of what comes next?

 

  * George Washington never wanted to lead, but what can he do in the space of such destruction. He leaves Hogwarts in Martha’s careful hands and rebuilds as best he can. And after two terms as minister he goes home, sits in the shade of the castle, and smiles.



 

  * Theo and Aaron hold each other tight, because what else can they do. She surprises everyone, including herself, by speaking in his defence at his trial. So does Alex. So does John. And it’s not enough for him to get an innocent verdict, but it’s enough that Aaron can sleep at night. He’s given eighteen months in Azkaban, and the first thing he does on release is stagger over Theo’s doorway, and sleep for a day and a half. The second thing he does is go to a muggle tattoo parlor, and come home with a sand timer inked over his dark mark. Theo laughs when she sees it, calls him fucking pretentious, and kisses him to prove it.



 

  * Herc and Peggy are married within a month of her turning eighteen. It’s far too quick, if you ask thier friends. It’s obvious that they’re both still hurting and not nearly healed, but no one tries to stop them. And their wedding is the first honestly happy day in a long time, even without Angelica there to see it. Laf is Herc’s best man, and and Herc is never living down the speech. He wouldn’t have it any other way.



 

  * Laf goes back to France and sets up a school for those who can’t afford Beauxbatons. Then he does the same in the states.



 

  * Peggy goes off to chase dragons. Quite literally. She’s home when she can be, and Herc knows he wouldn’t love her if she were differeng. There’s no point in sitting around and worrying about his wife (his wife!), so Herc goes back to the only thing he ever felt he was good at. Von Steuben is quitting, and there’s no one else Washington would have for the dark arts job.



 

  * Alex and John move in together, and for a long time that’s all. Everyone needs time to heal, but not everyone wakes up in the middle of the night screaming and clinging to John until he’s sure he’s not dead. Not everyone needs the occasional whispered promise that they’re real. They coexist, and then they start sharing a bed, and its more than enough. And then there’s Eliza.



 

  * She drifts, after the war. There’s a part of her that will never stop blaming herself for what happened, and its one she never fully shakes. She flits between the muggle and magical world, neither quite feeling like home, but she’s at peace with that, because there are always places she can go. Aaron and Theo have a draw for her clothes and sheets in their spare room. Herc’s office has a sofa. Peggy makes sure to always have a second hammock, camp bed, or patch of floor wherever her work takes her. And most of all, she drifts back to Alex and John’s flat.



 

  * Sometimes she’s there for a night, sometimes a week. Once, she spends almost three months sleeping in the spare bed, and increasingly in thiers. t’s not a regular shape, the Alex-and-John-and-sometimes-Eliza household, but it's a perfect fit, and day by day they make it work. She’s never unhappy, but she’s never quite satisfied, either. She’s a waitress, an assistant at flourish and blotts, a lighting technician at a London theatre. She quietly funnels her wages into the orphanage Alex grew up in, and never tells a soul.



 

  * One day, Alex wakes up and stumbles into the kitchen to find Eliza sitting there, three cups of tea steaming on the table and a laptop open in front of her. “I’ve been thinking,” she says without lifting her eyes from the screen. “That someone really needs to tell our story.” She works for a year, a story of two boys on broomsticks, a tattoo hidden under the sleeves of school robes, a young witch promising to do whatever it took to keep her sister safe. She’s still worried it's not enough.



 

  * “You know,” says Theo, flicking through one of the later drafts. “You could sell this. Change some details here and there, and the muggles would eat it up.”



 

  * And so she does.



 

  * One night in the middle of the German winter, and Eliza appears in Peggy’s cabin with a panicked expression and a pregnancy test clutched tight in one hand. “Help me,” she whispers.



 

  * Babies aren’t an alien concept - Laf and Adrienne have a beautiful boy named Georges - but it's terrifying all the same. To her credit, Peggy never once asks if its Alex’s, or John’s or someone else’s entirely. Neither do they, although by the time Philip is two, nobody has to. There’s Schuyler aplenty in his face, something of the twist to Peggy’s grin and the glint of Angelica’s eyes, but there’s no mistaking their particular shade of hazel, nor the freckles splashed across his face like droplets of ink. Alex couldn’t love him any more if he were his own, and Philip is in every way that counts.



 

  * They all go to see Pip off to school on the first of September. Theo Burr, his best friend and partner in crime is starting with them and Georges, two years older and fiercely protective of his almost-cousins is guaranteed to get them into trouble rather than keep them out of it. Alex really wouldn’t have it any other way.



  
  


He watched the scarlet steam engine until it rounded the corner and disappeared from view. And then a little longer. It was only when Eliza poked him in the ribs with a knowing smile that Alex turned away. There would be time to worry about Pip, to send him a congratulations card whatever house he was sorted into and count down the days until he came home for Christmas. There would be time to console his seven year old sister Angie and tell her it wouldn’t be long until she could go off to Hogwarts too. But for now, Alex only took John’s hand, let  Eliza loop her arm through his his, and let them lead him away.

 

 

_ And above all, watch with glittering eyes the whole world around you, because the greatest secrets are always found in the most unlikely places.   
And those who don’t believe in magic will never find it. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks if you've stayed with this ridiculousness until the end. Truly. From the bottom of my heart, you guys are the best.  
> Much love

**Author's Note:**

> If anyone wants to come and scream at me about how I've sorted your faves into completely the wrong houses (or, you know, anything else) comments make a writer's day, and I'm on tumblr @hapless-and-hopeless


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